Lakota Page 12

  Hokala gave many presents away, and Tacante honored his friend by giving two of the stolen wasicun horses to families whose animals had died of the harsh weather.

  "I was certain they would give you the lance, Tacante," Hokala told his friend later. "It's you that's so often led the charge."

  "It was you turned back to help Wamanon," Tacante said, driving the truth from his face. "They all saw."

  Hokala glowed with pride, but Tacante only swallowed his own misery. The day Hokala first planted the lance and remained behind, Tacante swore to stay also. Perhaps that vow might ease his guilt.

  He doubted it.

  Winter soon brought another ceremony. A year had passed since the passing of old He Hopa, and Four Horns's family now brought out the many possessions of the medicine man and spread them in the snow.

  "Hear us, friends," Wanbli Cannunpa called. "He who was called He Hopa is no more. We give up his ghost that he may walk in peace on the other side."

  Hehaka and her sisters carried kettles and blankets to one family or another. Many fine shirts were given away to those in need. Buffalo hides and beaded moccasins were passed among the elders. Finally Wanbli Cannunpa lifted a fine medicine bonnet skyward. The buffalo horns protruding from each side had been a source of great power, and suddenly a great quiet setded over the camp.

  "Wakan Tanka, bring power and wisdom to the man who wears this bonnet," Wanbli Cannunpa prayed. He then carried the medicine bonnet to Tacante and set it upon the startled young man's head.

  "I'm not worthy," Tacante objected.

  He Hopa chose you," the Pipe explained. "His medicine charms are in my lodge, as are many powders. Who would know what to do with them? It's your heart Tatanka speaks to. Yours is the healing way."

  Tacante dipped his head in modest submission, and the people howled their approval.

  "I have no good horse to ride," Wanbli Cannunpa then added. 4 'Perhaps you know of one I might like?"

  "I do," Tacante said. "You know of the fine buckskin mare I have ridden to hunt the buffalo."

  "Ah, such a fine gift would need to be answered. Is there something I have you could use?"

  Something of great value," Tacante answered, shyly shifting his eyes toward Hehaka.

  You have a dark horse, too, taken from the wasicuns."

  "And a raven-colored stallion. These I would offer."

  "Then come to my lodge when the sun rises," Wanbli Cannunpa said, gripping Tacante's wrists. "My daughter's heart will soar with the hawks."

  "As mine will," Tacante said.

  So it was that Tacante walked from the lodge of his father and took a wife. As was the custom, Tacante now adopted Hehaka's people as his own. He bid farewell to his Sicangu brothers, for now Wanbli Cannunpa would point the way. But scarcely had word been sent to the neighboring camps of the wedding feast when the scouts brought word that peace speakers had again come to Fort Laramie.

  "Ah, the wasicuns speak often of peace," Mahpiya Luta spoke to a gathering of Oglalas. "If they want peace, they only have to leave our country and keep the thieves from Powder River."

  Others spoke much the same, but Louis Le Doux arrived to say there were, indeed, two star chiefs and many other wasicuns at the fort. They brought presents and spoke of ending the killing.

  "It's good word I bring," Louis told Tacante. "I'm pleased, too, that I'll be here to share your wedding feast."

  "Yes," Tacante said, smiling at his brother-friend. "It's been a long time since we hunted elk. You, too, must soon find a wife. A trader's son has many good things to trade, and we have many women and not so many young men."

  "We're not so young as when we watched Itunkala in his cradle-board. He's grown. You have, too."

  "Yes," Tacante said, touching the fine black hairs that now spread beneath Hinkpila's nose. It was strange, this hairy face that had come to his brother-friend. "And you, Hinkpila."

  "You'll come to the fort soon? Hinhan Hota, our father, has agreed to hear the peace speakers' words."

  "Soon I will be Oglala," Tacante said, turning to look at Eagle Pipe. "Mahpiya Luta stays. Sunkawakan Witkotkoke stays. I, too, will remain until the soldiers leave."

  "Then perhaps our paths will meet when summer returns," Louis said. "I will watch our brother."

  "Yes," Tacante said sadly. "Itunkala is young. He's not lived among the wasicuns."

  The two of them gripped each other's hands. Then Tacante went to seek out his father and brother.

  "You go to the fort, Ate," Tacante said when he joined Hinhan Hota. "The Oglalas stay."

  "Many stay," Hinhan Hota replied. "Some go. You've chosen well, my son. Be a good husband. Bring no dishonor on your family."

  "I'd sooner die," Tacante assured his father. "You will say to my mother and sister that I thank them for the many fine presents they have made for me and my wife."

  "It gives them pleasure to do it. You've been a good son and a worthy brother."

  "Now I must talk with Itunkala."

  "He waits for you even now," Hinhan Hota said, pointing to where the Mouse stood holding the patched buffalo shield.

  Tacante led the boy across the snow-covered hillside. Itunkala had now passed eight winters upon the earth, and the beginnings of the man he would be were upon him. He was small, but his feet carried him swiftly, and his strong little arms made him a fair match for his bigger companions in the wrestling games favored by Lakota boys.

  "I'll miss you on the hunt, Misun," Tacante said, using the favored word for his younger brother. His only blood brother.

  "You promised to make me a bow of good ash," Itunkala said, resting his head against his brother's side.

  "I'll do it. We won't be so long from each other's sight. Soon this war will be finished, and we will hunt the buffalo."

  "You'll come to the fort?"

  "When the fighting's done. Now Hinkpila, our brother, will look after you. He has many brothers, and he knows much. He'll show you strange things and teach you difficult words spoken by the wasicuns."

  "I don't want to know such things!" Itunkala answered angrily. "The wasicuns kill our people. A wasicun put the hole in your side."

  "Don't close your mind to what can be learned, Misun. A clever Lakota knows his enemies. He learns their weaknesses and turns that knowledge against them."

  "Hau!" Itunkala shouted. "That's true."

  "Come now with me to the wedding feast. Hehaka has no young brothers, and she wishes to see what one looks like. You'll sit beside me in a place of honor, and you can choose the best pieces of meat."

  Itunkala grinned broadly, and the two of them walked together to where Hehaka's Oglala relations had erected the new lodge she would now share with her husband. Food was spread out on blankets, and already a crowd was gathering. It was only when the two brothers came near that Itunkala wavered. Clutching Tacante's hand, the Mouse tried not to let his sadness show. But the boy's feelings overwhelmed him, and Tacante lifted the boy onto one shoulder and walked on to greet his new wife and her family.

  "Hau!" Wanbli Cannunpa cried. "I welcome my son, Tacante, to his new lodge."

  Tacante responded with proud words, and then the people celebrated the union with much good food. Presents were given away freely, and there was singing and dancing. Later, when Tacante and Hehaka closed the buffalo-hide flap over their tipi's oval door and crept to the warm fire, they exchanged shy glances.

  "Here I am for you, my husband," Hehaka said, baring herself.

  "And I for you, lovely one," Tacante said as he peeled off his shirt.

  Tacante felt an icy chill creep down his back as he loosened his leggings. Then Hehaka spread apart the rich buffalo hides her sisters had prepared for them. She lay on one side, watching with eager eyes as he removed his breechclout. She then grinned shyly as he joined her.

  Tacante remembered the terrifying loneliness he'd felt at Blue Creek. Since that day he'd never known the perfect belonging he'd experienced as a small boy in his father's lodge. No
w, as Hehaka drew him to her, that belonging returned. Every inch of him glowed with rare warmth, and he knew the great contentment that being one with another could bring.

  No thoughts of fighting wasicuns or signing treaties invaded has mind that night. There was only Hehaka.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The wasicuns called it Red Cloud's War. Perhaps it was, for of all the chiefs and warriors determined to save Powder River and the last of the great hunting grounds, Mahpiya Luta's voice rose loudest. Even as the many Lakota and Sahiyela chiefs touched the pen to a new treaty at Fort Laramie, the Cloud, Sunkawakan Witkotkoke, and many other Lakotas remained in the Big Horn country, watching the bluecoats in their forts and raiding the wasicuns traveling the stolen road.

  "Come to the fort and make peace," many voices urged. "See how the wasicuns reward us with their many presents. We have new guns that shoot far and fire many times. Hau! The hunting is good, and our young men will live to see many summers."

  "So long as the wasicuns stay in this country, I will fight," Mahpiya Luta always answered. And many stayed with him.

  Wanbli Cannunpa remained, and Tacante now followed his father-inlaw. The heart longed to hear the wise, familiar voice of Hinhan Hota, and he missed the admiring eyes of little Itunkala. But Hehaka comforted him with her soft words and warm touch, and he enjoyed a new contentment.

  Often he rode to the watching hill to share time with Waawanyanka and Sunka Sapa. The two young men would sometimes return to Eagle Pipe's camp and enjoy the chiefs hospitality. Hehaka often eased the pain of many days in the saddle with her healing herbs, and she was equally gifted preparing fry bread or stewing buffalo and elk meat.

  "Ah, it's a good bargain you made, Tacante," Sunka Sapa remarked. "You've found a wife to fatten your belly and heal your hurts."

  "And one with a pleasing face as well," Waawanyanka added. "As for fat, she seems well fed herself."

  "There's more to love that way," Tacante declared, refusing to share the news that there was a child growing within Hehaka. They would learn soon enough.

  The greenleaf moon of late spring brought a strange stirring in the wasicun forts. Few wagons now rolled along the stolen road, and for the first time soldiers began to leave the forts and ride south before others arrived to take their place. Finally a band of Sahiyelas brought word the wasicuns were leaving the fort on Big Horn River.

  "Hau!" a party of Minikowojus cried. "These forts will make good fires!"

  "It may be a trick," Mahpiya Luta warned. "We'll send watchers."

  Now was a time for caution, Tacante thought. Since the day the hundred were slain, the wasicuns had shown themselves to be clever. Hadn't they fought well from behind the wagon boxes? And Wamanon had paid the price for thinking the soldiers wouldn't guard their ponies.

  As summer passed, though, the wasicuns marched out of each fort in turn. The words of the treaty were good, after all, many said. Tacante was among the warriors who rode down to look at the middle fort after the last bluecoats left it. The high log walls were deserted, and only scraps of corn and flour remained in the warehouses. They were ghost forts now, for the strange forest of crosses remained to mark the burials of the dead.

  Strange that the wasicuns place their dead in the cold ground, Tacante thought. How can their spirits soar into the heavens and cross over to the other side?

  "Maybe they're not there at all," Waawanyanka said. "We could dig and find out."

  "Leave them," Tacante said, sensing a strangeness to the air. "Maybe their ghosts have not been given up. This is a good time for the Lakotas. We need no bad medicine."

  So it was that the graveyard was left, but every other trace of the fort was erased by ax and flame. Mahpiya Luta stood on the watching hill as smoke climbed skyward. The Oglalas howled with pleasure as the walls collapsed in flaming heaps.

  "It's a good day to be alive!" Sunka Sapa called, and Tacante echoed the shout. Others took it up until the hills resounded with the cry.

  Most of the Sahiyelas broke their camps and moved toward Fort Laramie then. Talk of presents drew many of the others, as well. Mahpiya Luta and many of the Oglalas remained in the Big Horn country until the third fort was burned and the soldiers had returned to Platte River.

  "Now we can touch the pen to the white man's paper," Mahpiya Luta declared. "Now I can believe he will leave us to live as we have before, on our own land in our own way."

  The wasicuns at Fort Laramie welcomed Mahpiya Luta and the last of the Oglalas warmly. Many word writers gathered around to speak to the Cloud, and plenty of presents were distributed. Tacante translated the wasicun talk for many of the chiefs, but he longed to escape and see Hinkpila, his brother-friend. Soon enough Louis appeared, though he was surprised to find Tacante.

  "I came to read the treaty to Red Cloud," Louis explained. "Ah, I'm glad to see you, brother. Your family is nearby. And I have news."

  "First the treaty," Tacante said, noticing the impatient chiefs. "Then we'll share our news."

  Louis then undertook the laborious task of explaining the meaning of the wasicun text to men who relied more on what was in a man's heart. Red Cloud didn't understand the need for another treaty, for, after all, the old one had promised the Lakotas that they would keep the land. This new paper said strange things. The Lakotas might keep the buffalo range north of Platte River and south in Kansas so long as the buffalo grazed there. So long as the buffalo remained? Who would outlive Tatanka?

  There was talk of reservations, too. Already Sinte Gleska, the Spotted Tail, had picked out a good place to make his winter camps. The wasicuns promised a giveaway every summer at that place. Now Mahpiya Luta might have one as well.

  Not everyone liked the treaty paper. Sunkawakan Witkotkoke argued against making camp at these agencies.

  "The wasicuns will feed us like a pet horse," the strange Oglala complained. "Who rides with me to Tongue River? Which Lakota will be free?"

  Many chose to go, but most stayed and accepted presents. There were good blankets to stave off winter chills, and many fine beads, looking glasses, kettles, and tools. Powder and shot for hunting was provided, and many new guns could be obtained in trade for buffalo hides.

  Tacante paid little heed to it all. Louis had much news, and there were Hinhan Hota and little Itunkala to see, not to mention a mother and sister to visit, even if he would be restrained from speaking openly to either. As it turned out, Wicatankala was not with their mother.

  "Has she gone to the women's lodge?" Tacante asked Hinhan Hota.

  "She's gone to Hinkpila's lodge," the Owl explained. "She's his wife."

  "Hau!" Tacante shouted, turning toward his grinning companion. "You've told me much, but you left out the best."

  "I only wish you would have been here for the wedding feast, Brother," Louis answered. "Many were, though. I fear my father's poorer, and he laments that he's got so many sons yet to marry off."

  "Ah, I have news, too," Tacante announced. "Hehaka carries our child. Winter will bring another Oglala to walk the earth."

  Now it was Louis's turn to howl with delight. Hinhan Hota clasped his son's hands and shouted even louder. Even Itunkala seemed pleased. Until now the Mouse had remained quietly beside his father. Now the boy jumped onto Tacante's back and pounded the Heart unmercifully.

  "It will be a son," Itunkala declared. "Perhaps he'll be bigger, though, than you and I. He should have a brave heart name, Ciye."

  Tacante warmed at the sound of that word. Too long he had been among Hehaka's sisters. "Brother" sounded so very good. He grinned as he pried Itunkala loose. Then he set off to help make camp.

  Tacante erected his lodge beside that of his father-in-law in the large circle that merged Wanbli Cannunpa's Oglalas with Hinhan Hota's Sicangus. Even as the Lakotas erected smoking racks for meat or stretched buffalo hides on willow frames, Mahpiya Luta led many of the people eastward toward his new agency at Camp Robinson. Sahiyelas journeyed south to Republican River, and the Dakotas went nor
th into Paha Sapa.

  "We should go, too," Hinhan Hota said. "Too long we've left the sacred circle of the stars. Winter should find us on White River, where there is good grass for the horses."

  "Yes, Ate," Tacante said. "You should go. It is too long a journey for Hehaka. We'll stay here until the child is born."

  "Too many bluecoats," Hinhan Hota warned. "We fought these men. They will remember."

  "Hinkpila is here," Tacante argued. "He'll see we're not harmed."

  "He is only part wasicun," the Owl pointed out. "Better you come with your people."

  "White River is a hard place to be born, and winter is a starving time, Ate. I wish my son to live. I'll stay."

  "Then you won't be alone," Hinhan Hota promised. "I, too, will stay."

  As it turned out, most of the big camp stayed. With the war over, the young men rode out in desperate search for buffalo. There was little meat put by for winter, and much was needed, especially in the lodge of Wanbli Cannunpa. For Hehaka was not the only daughter married that winter.

  It was little surprise to Tacante when Sunka Sapa lost his heart to pretty little Pehan, the Crane. Waawanyanka, though, had seldom even played his flute by the water walk, and he had come but once to invite Wakinyela, the Dove, to share his blanket. The Watcher was always the quiet one, though, and he brought two fine horses to Eagle Pipe and spoke his affection for Hehaka's older sister.

  Last to be wedded was Hokala Huste. The Badger had grown serious now that he was a lance bearer, and often he'd spoken of how a man with such a short life ahead of him should never take a wife.

  "I have no brother to look after my sons," Hokala said sadly.

  "You have brothers," Tacante argued. "Haven't we spoken the words? You are kola."

  "It's a hard thing to take a second woman into your lodge, and maybe little ones, too."

  "Wouldn't Hehaka take her sister's child to her heart?" Tacante asked. "Go ask Wanbli Cannunpa to wed Sunlata."

  "You knew?" Badger cried.