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Authors: Janelle Taylor

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BOOK: Bittersweet Ecstasy
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They had endured many dangers and hardships to be together, but they had shared a special love and closeness which few lovers ever knew. He should not be bitter, but happy for those many seasons. Perhaps it was time to turn his eyes from the past and to look to his future, for this year without her had been long and self-destructive. Years ago, he had promised himself and others never to harm himself or others again, and to pine for what could never return kept him from thinking clearly and reacting wisely. Perils were ahead for him and his people, and he needed his concentration and spirit to battle them.

When Rebecca had been lost to him during her capture at the fort and during her capture by an evil white man, he had known she was alive somewhere and waiting for his rescue; this time, could he go on hoping the same was true? Before, there had been signs and messages to guide him to her; this time, there were none. This time, it was as if she had never existed, but he knew she had. “If you are alive, my heart, find some way to return to me. If you watch me from the side of the Great Spirit, you know what is in my heart
and life.”

The drums began to summon the Oglalas to the feast for one who had returned from the dead. Did that not, he asked himself, tell him and others it could be true for his love? One morning she was walking at his side; then the next, she was gone, and he did not know where or how. “Do not dream the dreams of the foolish, Bright Arrow,” he warned hoarsely, “for she has been lost too long for a woman alone to survive.” He dried the moisture from his eyes, inhaled deeply, squared his broad shoulders, and headed to join his parents and tribe.

A large fire had been built in the center of their camp and the elders sat on buffalo mats a short distance from it. Since this was a celebration, the women and children did not have to stand or sit behind the warriors and braves as was done during ceremonies. A tall pole displaying a sacred medicine wheel, which represented all influences and forces, was positioned a few feet from the campfire. The buffalo skull in its center signified
Lakol wicoh’an,
the traditional way of life, and
Pte Oyate,
the spiritual life. There was a great significance to the four directions upon its face: south, the innocence of mind and body at birth; east, enlightenment; north, wisdom gained during life; and west, meditation for self-examination and understanding. All spokes radiated toward the center: the heart and meaning of life itself, which was total harmony with one’s self and with nature. The skull was old and weathered, and painted white to express purity. From a male buffalo, it depicted the wisdom and generosity of the Great Spirit, who had sent the buffalo to feed, clothe, and shelter His people.

The Oglala believed that the eagle, exhibited by four feathers which dangled from the wheel’s bottom, had a special place among the animals and birds. The sacred
hoop portrayed the four virtues in the Lakota culture: wisdom, courage, constancy, and generosity. The four feathers and four intersecting bars of the medicine wheel related the significance of the number four in their religion. The four bars pointed in separate directions which represented danger from the west, life from the north, knowledge from the east, and introspection from the south. The four points crossed in the center of the medicine wheel to speak of harmony and peace when all things came together as they should. The hoop alleged the never-ending circle of life which started with birth, to maturity, to old age, to death for rebirth in the spirit world; it was the symbol of the continuity of Indian life.

The same was true of the sacred pipe which was being smoked and shared by all warriors who cared to partake of it. After it was lifted skyward as an offering to the Great Spirit
Wakantanka
and downward to the Mother Earth
Makakin
for all they provided, each of the four directions was acknowledged: to the east to summon enlightenment and peace, to the south where warmth was born, to the west which brought rain, and to the north which offered fortitude. It was accepted as the mingling of one’s breath with the Great Spirit’s, and to share it had deep meaning to each man.

Pipe smoking was done on many occasions—in prayer rituals, friendship parley, and council or society meetings. A man’s personal prayer pipe was sacred and was never to be touched by women or foes. To steal a warrior’s sacred pipe was a high
coup.
When members of tribes, friends or foes, met, they smoked the pipe of friendship or truce. When tribes joined to declare war together, they smoked the same pipe to show oneness in will and spirit. The smoke of the pipe was said to be the sharing of the breath of the Great Spirit, to instill courage and knowledge or to make truce between those
who shared it.

Food and drink were served, and the mood was happy and light. As they finished eating, many conversed with those nearby; others entered the wide circle, one or more at a time, to enact tales of past adventures and events; while some were content to observe and quietly enjoy this stirring occasion. Prayers and chants were given by the shaman. Music began to fill the air: kettle drums, around which sat eight men with sticks, for the Indian never touched the surface of the drum with his hands; eagle-bone whistles and flutes; and a variety of different-size gourds, which were used as rattles. Some began to dance; others swayed or clapped to the music and revelry. It was a celebration of
Wakantanka’s
generosity, of the joy of living, of Mother Earth’s renewal; it was the continuation of their Life-circles.

Shalee sat between her husband and oldest son. Feeling Bright Arrow and Powchutu could carry out their deception, she experienced no guilt in looking forward to their absence. Soon they would be breaking camp for a long journey which would allow no privacy, so time alone was short and precious. Then, upon their arrival at their summer camp, the buffalo hunt and trouble with the whites would claim their time and energies, and perhaps even more…

When her smile vanished and she lowered her head, Gray Eagle asked quietly, “What troubles you this happy day, little one?”

Her gaze met his, and her love glowed in its green depths. She did not want to burden him with her feelings of foreboding, so she smiled and caressed his cheek. “It has been a long and busy day for an aging woman. Perhaps we should seek you a second wife to help with our chores as White Arrow did.”

Gray Eagle grinned and his eyes brightened with
amusement and love. “Since when has Gray Eagle needed more than one female in his tepee? You do not grow old and weak, my love; you simply change with the seasons. Do you worry over our son’s departure?”

Shalee glanced at Bright Arrow to find him in conversation with Plenty Coups. She leaned toward her husband and murmured softly, “I know the Great Spirit will guard him, and it is good he has a mission to distract him from his sadness and to fill him with excitement. I was thinking of our journey and new camp; they will take much of our days and strength. Perhaps we will have none left to be together.”

Gray Eagle chuckled and his eyes sparkled with understanding and warmth. “Our brother has been with us for only one moon, and you feel denied of my touch,” he teased. “When we reach our summer camp, we must find him a new mate and tepee so my wife will not starve for me,” he hinted as his caressing gaze roamed her lovely face and slender body. “We do not feed as often as in past days, but each feast is better and richer than the last. Never will we grow too old or weak to ride love’s stallion together. I will prove this to my doubting wife on the new sun when we are alone.”

Shalee laughed softly and stroked his arm. “No man has ever matched or will match the prowess of Gray Eagle upon the Plains or upon the sleeping mats. Your promise and your look cause me to quiver with longing and suspense. If you forget and leave with the hunters, I will come after you and drag you home to
rest
with me.”

Their eyes fused and spoke of undying love and powerful passion, emotions greater than time or distance or measure. He grasped her hand, pulled it into his lap, covered it with his other one, and held it interlocked while their attention returned to the feast.

Bright Arrow glanced at his friend Flaming Star who
was talking with his two sons, aged thirteen and eleven. He assumed his friend’s five-year-old daughter was with his wife Morning Light. Unbidden envy surged through Bright Arrow, and he wished he had a son or sons to teach and train. His children were all girls and he loved them dearly, but he had missed the closeness and bond between father and son.

His father had sons; his best friend Windrider had sons; his close friend Flaming Star had sons. A man needed sons to help provide for and protect the family and tribe if anything happened to the father. Soon, he would be alone, for Tashina was of joining age and many men desired her and made offers for her. Yet, he wanted to wait until she came to him to speak of one special man, a man she could love and share a life with as he had done with Rebecca. Perhaps if he found another mate, she could bear him a son. He was still young and virile; and many men had children at ages longer than his, like White Arrow, who had given his seeds to Pretty Woman when he was fifty-four and fifty-six winters old. Surely a man of forty-two winters could plant his seeds in a fertile maiden, seeds to grow a son who would one day follow him as chief as he would follow his father.

Bright Arrow looked around the ever-widening circles and studied the females among them. Desert Flower smiled at him, a smile which implied she would leave her husband if he reached out for her. That insight did not come as a surprise to him, for she had chased him since they were young. After he had taken Rebecca captive, Desert Flower had been cruel and spiteful to his secret love. From the way she was enticing him, she had changed little over the years.

The same was true of Little Tears, her cohort in those brutal games with Rebecca. His gaze sought and found the other female, who had lost her mate only a few
months past and had not as yet accepted a new one. She, too, was watching him and inviting him to take her bait.

Bright Arrow knew he could lure either female to his mat to appease his manly needs, but that would inspire them to dog him; and neither appealed to him as a mate, certainly not after Rebecca. Besides, they were his age, and perhaps their womanhoods were no longer fertile. Only a son could remove this void left by his lost love. If he must find another mate, she must be young and pretty and special. Perhaps the best thing to do was to visit the Cheyenne and Blackfeet camps to study their young maidens. Windrider and Silver Hawk could assist his search. Yes, after they set up summer camp, he would do that.

Thunder Spirit nudged Sun Cloud and remarked, “Your brother looks at women again. Perhaps we should capture him another white girl to fill his needs until he selects a new mate,” he playfully suggested, careful to conceal his lingering resentment of Bright Arrow for allowing a warrior of another tribe to take his love before he could speak for her. At seventeen, Little Feet had been too young and innocent to be sent far away with strangers. One day, the brother of his close friend would pay for that mistake. Perhaps he should take Tashina in Little Feet’s place and leave Bright Arrow alone in his empty tepee.

“No one can replace Wahea. He still longs for her return. It is hard to lose the woman you love as your own life. One day, my friend and brother, we will know such feelings.”

Thunder Spirit pulled his probing gaze from Bright Arrow. “Yes, my friend and brother, such words are true. When do you ride to the camp of the Blackfeet again to tame a pretty wildcat?” he asked, recalling what Sun Cloud had shared about his time with
Singing Wind.

“I will wait many moons to let her remember and crave the prowess of Sun Cloud. When next we see each other, she will be eager for my forgiveness and touch. She is strong and brave, and times are bad. A chief has need of a woman with courage and stamina, a woman who knows how to defend herself and her people when warriors are away. Perhaps in these troubled days it is not bad for a woman to be as she is. But she must be taught to conquer her tongue and ways when necessary. She must learn when and how much of her skills to use. She must learn that pride and honor are important, and must not be endangered. She must learn such things before Sun Cloud can approach her.”

“Then you must find ways to teach her such things, my brother.”

“The thinking or saying is easy, my friend, but the doing is not. In fifteen moons we will reach our summer camp, then I will begin my attack on Singing Wind’s defiance. When it is conquered, I will lay claim to her,” Sun Cloud boldly announced as the decision was made.

“What if you are defeated in this heady mission?” Thunder Spirit inquired, smothering his laughter.

“What woman of any intelligence and pride would refuse to be mellowed and claimed by the future chief of the awesome Oglala? But,” he added mirthfully, “tell no one of my quest, in case I fail.”

“You can trust no one more than your friend and brother,” the warrior vowed honestly. “Be patient and have faith, and you will claim your love and destiny.”
As I will somehow reclaim mine…

Later, Sun Cloud slipped away to be alone. He could not forget his hunger for Singing Wind, or her stinging rebuff. This was a busy season for his tribe, but he needed and wanted to find time to win the heart and
hand of the female whom he could not get out of his mind. With the move to their summer camp approaching and probable battles with the whites rapidly closing in on them, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to visit with Singing Wind. As the son of Gray Eagle and the future Oglala chief, his first duty was to his people. Sometimes he wished that Bright Arrow had not lost the right to become chief, for Bright Arrow had lost that rank through their father’s vision and through his brother’s love and choice of a white girl over his duty and tribe. Being a chief was a heavy responsibility, one with many sacrifices and demands. Yet, obviously the Great Spirit had chosen him as the future chief, and he could never refuse that honor and duty.

BOOK: Bittersweet Ecstasy
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