Tiopa Ki Lakota (39 page)

"
NO
!!"

Chapter 11

Mikiyela Ksto
(mee-kee-yeh-lah ke-she-toh)
She Is Near Me

1782

Nupa Olowan

smoked his pipe in silence as he watched the proceedings across the fire. It had warmed up considerably in the last moon and
Wagmiza Wagna's

camp was preparing to leave winter camp in the next few days. The warrior inhaled deeply of the smoke, worry on his mind.

His woman,
Hca Wanahca

, spoke in calming murmurs to her sister, brushing the unruly dark hair.

When
Wi Ile Anpo's

pony had stumbled into camp the previous moon, all had been surprised. To travel alone through the winter was unthinkable, stuff only legends were made of. The woman's health had reflected the hardships she'd put herself through - her clothes more rags than not, raven hair filthy and matted, cheeks gaunt from lack of food.

No one knew how Anpo had found their winter camp. No one knew what had happened to Kathleen and Teca. The
winyan
wouldn't speak. It was if her tongue had frozen in her mouth - no amount of gentle questioning or prodding could get an answer.

She is only half a person
, came Nupa's grim thought, dark eyes stormy with concern.

The people spoke of the white woman and her child being dead and that Anpo was in mourning. But her hair was still long, her arms showing no signs of the cuts she would have inflicted upon herself in her lamentation. There was some confusion because of this - only
winyan

did these things in mourning,
wicasa

did not. The warrior was an enigma in that area, being neither wholly female or male. If something had happened to her family, would Anpo respond in the proper feminine manner?

When the
winyan
had awakened in her ina's lodge, she had immediately staggered out of her sleeping robes and stepped outside, robes in hand. Her feet took her to where Kathleen's
ti

ikceya

would have been and she curled up on the cold, hard ground. Since that time, Hca and
Waniyetu Gi

had set the lodge as if the blonde woman were still present, and Anpo resided there.

The shaman, Inyan Ceye, had spent time with her and proclaimed she was haunted by her own demons. With food and love she would eventually fight through and return to them. All his visions attested to this.

And so, Nupa and his family spent their nights more often than not at Kathleen's
ti ikceya
, taking care of Anpo. The regular feeding had done her a world of good, the woman's skin no longer hanging on her bones. Her
cuwe

and
ina

repaired or replaced her clothing and kept her clean and warm.
Wanbli Zi

and Nupa sat with her in silence, emanating a quiet support.

Tapping the ashes out into the fire, Nupa stared into the flames. His woman's voice sang a low song to
Yus'as'a

, the baby asleep in her arms. Anpo's gaze was also on the dancing fire, her hair now neatly braided.

Movement caught the
wicasa's
eye and he looked up from the fire at his
tanksi

. He watched as she pulled the rawhide ties from her hair. Long fingers raked through the ebony locks, freeing them from the braids as she always did.

A thought came to Nupa's mind and he blinked in recognition.
A warrior who wears his hair loose only means one thing.
"You are willing to do desperate things,
tanksi
," he said, his voice low.

Hca's voice faded as she looked up at them, a slightly puzzled expression on her face. She let out a soft gasp as her mitan slowly nodded her head.

Heart in his throat at the response, Nupa leaned closer. His friend's dark eyes were still on the flames, but he could see them shining and tiny muscles in her face twitched as she tried to keep control. "Why?" he whispered.

There was a long silence, as there always seemed to be with Anpo. Nupa almost gave up, preparing to straighten a bit and continue his worrying. A sound stopped him.

With a voice that hadn't been used in months, the
winyan
croaked, "
Mahasanni ki

."

Frozen, Hca and Nupa stared blankly at each other. Neither wanted to move or speak, to disrupt this first contact with the emotionally wounded warrior. Anpo said nothing further so the
wicasa
took a bracing breath.

"Why is she not with you?"

Another long silence that left Nupa thinking she wouldn't answer.

"
Winuhcala

is ashamed of me."

Nupa's brow furrowed, his mouth pulling down in a frown. Searching his mind for something to say, he finally spoke. "I do not understand,
tanksi
. Ketlin has always been proud of you. You are a great warrior and hunter for your family."

The tears finally spilled over and ran down Anpo's face, twin streaks of light reflecting from the fire. "
Hiya

, she is
not
proud of me," she said, her voice strengthening with conviction. "She is ashamed."

Unable to simply watch, Hca settled the baby down on some nearby furs and scooted closer, draping an arm about her sister's shoulder, her hand rubbing Anpo's upper arm. "Why do you say this,
mitankala

?" she prodded gently.

"She would not speak to me, would not explain to her
ate

and
ina
that we were joined." Anpo's tears increased their pace. "Her
ate
thought I only brought her home to them. That we were not just visiting."

Hca's eyes narrowed at her
stepan's

strange behavior. "That makes no sense, Anpo," she murmured, shaking her head.

With a forlorn shrug, Anpo dropped her head. "I was left to sleep with the animals. She did not even come to speak to me, to sleep with me. I was not welcome in her parents' lodge."

"What happened to Ketlin and Teca,
tanksi
?" Nupa asked, his gaze intense on his friend.

A sob could be heard from the mass of dark hair that hung down. "Ketlin said she was happy to be home." The head shook. "She would not come to me. I threw her away," came the whisper.

As more sobs racked Anpo's body, her sister cuddled her close and the warrior allowed it, crying onto Hca's shoulder as a small child.

"I will get your
ina
," Nupa said to his woman and rising to his feet. At Hca's nod, he left the fire, striding towards the fire of Wanbli.

How could Ketlin do this to her?
was the angry thought that repeated itself in his head.

Kathleen's sleep was shattered by a piercing scream. As she floundered awake, the grumblings of her brother could be heard nearby. Instinctively, the blonde reached for Teca, even as he screamed again.

With practiced movements, she pulled the rigid little body into her arms and began rocking and singing in an effort to dispel the nightmare. The toddler fought her off, his screams fading to loud crying as he chattered in Lakota.

"
Hiya
!
Hiya
, go 'way!" Teca battled his imaginary attacker, scoring a fist to his mother's temple before she could pin his arms.

Kathleen didn't quite see stars and it amazed her again how strong her son was. She continued to rock and sing, holding the toddler as still as she was able while he cried out.

The divider in the loft was tweaked to one side and Stewart eyeballed the pair, his face haggard. "What's he sayin'?" he grumbled. He received a glare in response and held up his hands in surrender. "Alright! I won't interrupt ye at work!" The young man pulled the divider back into place.

More sounds of movement below alerted Kathleen to her mother's presence and the ladder creaked.

A grey-blonde head poked over the edge of the floor. "I'll set the water to heatin'," she informed her daughter with a weary voice.

Kathleen only nodded, not breaking in her ministrations to her son. As her mother disappeared back downstairs, she peered into Teca's face.

The toddler's dark eyes were wide with fear, seeing things that no one could see. It had been this way all winter, these nightmares that would roust him and all in the house to wakefulness. It would take several minutes for the boy to wake, despite his activities and screeching, and he never remembered what it was that had caused the dreams.

Soon, Teca was no longer fighting his
ina
, curled up into a fetal ball in her arms and sobbing uncontrollably. Kathleen continued to speak to him in his native tongue, telling him a story of the creation of the world. Her voice soothed him, eased him, and the crying eventually drifted off.

When there were no more sounds but the hitching of his breath, the blonde adjusted her hold on Teca, cradling him. She peered down into sleepy red eyes. "
Cinksi

? Are you well?"

Having some difficulty focusing, the toddler nodded and hugged his mother's neck. "Tired,
ina
," he mumbled.

With a relieved sigh at another crisis averted, Kathleen laid her son down in her bed. She kissed his forehead and tucked him in as he reached for the rag doll he now slept with, cuddling it to his small chest. The blonde continued to hum an Irish tune, caressing his soft hair until he was asleep.

Kathleen sighed again and closed her eyes. The thought of climbing back into the warm bed and returning to sleep herself was very tempting. She could hear her mother puttering around downstairs, however, and she forced her eyes open.
Now's not the time, lass.

The young woman pushed herself up and grabbed her robe, pulling it about her. She eyed the bed with regret as she walked to the ladder and eased her way down.

"Good luck, sis," Stewart whispered just before her head dropped below the loft floor.

A quick glance to the right and she could see her brother wink and smile encouragingly. The blonde smiled thanks as she continued on.

The coals had been stirred back into flame, the only light in the cabin. In the murky shadows, Kathleen could see her father facing the wall in his own bed, pillow held firmly over his head.
Sorry again, da....

Her mother finished putting the tea into two cups on the table. She waved her daughter to a bench and retrieved the kettle before it could boil over and douse the flames. Rachel poured the hot liquid into the cups, tea leaves swirling about with the steam.

Kathleen sat, her profile to the fire. She idly peered into the cup pushed in her direction.
Gypsies can see my fortune in tea leaves
, she mused.
I wonder what kind of bad luck they'd see tonight....

"Don't let it worry ye none, lass," Rachel spoke in a low voice. "'Tis the curse of the O'Neill's and that's a fact. The lad'll get over it in time."

"Curse?" The blonde looked up from her cup, dark blue eyes concerned. "I've not heard of a curse before, mum."

The older woman shrugged. "Yer the first born, Kath. Ye had the night terrors as a child, too, though ye don't remember. As did I and your granny's brother, Malcolm." Rachel lifted her cup to blow on the tea. "The boy'll outgrow it in a year or so."

Irritable, Kathleen shook her head. "He
has
a name, mum."

"A
heathen
name," her mother murmured before taking a sip.

Kathleen rolled her eyes and looked back at the fire, pushing her own cup away. Silence filled the room, tension ringing in the air as the tired argument was met once again.

Rachel set the cup down, her face one of concern. "Why don't ye give the boy a Christian name?" she asked for the hundredth time. "And stop lettin' him speak that gibberish?"

"That 'gibberish' is Lakota and it's Teca's language," Kathleen responded, her voice low and hard. Before her mother could speak, she held up her hand. "I know, I know! He's Irish, too. But that's neither here nor there. He knows English, as well."

The older woman sighed explosively, her mouth pursed in disapproval. "Aye, but there's no one
here
that speaks Lakota, lass. In case ye haven't noticed," she said, her tone sarcastic.

Kathleen's heart ached at the dig, but she refused to allow her mother to see the damage. "
I
speak Lakota, mum. And someday, Teca'll want to know about his people. I
will
keep that alive for him."

Another silence drifted over the table. Finally, Rachel reached out and took her daughter's hand. "Kathleen," she said, her voice soft with caring. "I love ye. And I love the boy. But he'll not fit in at this rate." She waved her hand vaguely. "At weddings and barn raisings and such, he'll be a stranger to the rest of his own people."

It was the blonde's turn to sigh. "I understand your concern, mum. But, I will not change my mind on the matter." She squeezed her mother's hand. "I don't know how to explain it to ye. I don't feel that Teca's meant to be here."

"That
woman
won't be back to get him, if that's what ye mean," Rachel snapped, pulling her hand away and turned to the fire. She missed the look of pain that flashed across her daughter's face.

"Aye," Kathleen whispered. Her voice firmed as she continued. "But I expect Teca will want to know of his people, of his
inanup
. I'll not keep that from him. They are good people."