Chapter 21

Early that evening, Dark Horse found Sky Dancer and She Sings in a newly erected tipi. The scent of roasted rabbit filled the interior and his hollow stomach growled in anticipation of a meal. He’d worked all day with the others, clearing the camp of signs of the battle, chopping down trees for firewood and also for long poles with which to make tipis.

He was tired from all of the activity and ready to sit down for a while. “Smell good,” he said in Kiowa.

She Sings smiled at his attempt at their language as she handed him a plate of rabbit, wild carrots, and musk melon. “Very good.”

“’A-hou’,” he said, thanking her for the food.

Sky Dancer said, “We have been teaching each other our languages.”

“I see that. It is a good thing,” She Sings said.

The two women also sat down to eat.

Dark Horse swallowed a bite of rabbit and signed, “I have something to discuss with you, She Sings.”

“Yes?” She Sings gave him her full attention.

“Without a man, it will be hard for you to get along. You would have to rely on the kindness of hunters to give you meat and hides,” he said.

She Sings lowered her gaze and fought against the sadness and anxiety that burned in her chest. “Yes. I know.”

Dark Horse continued. “I may have a solution. I have discussed it with my mother, and you would be welcome in her home. She is also a widow and would enjoy the companionship of another woman. You are my mother-in-law, and it is now my responsibility to care for you. I can provide well for you. You do not have to decide now, but just know that you have a home with us if you wish.”

His generosity deeply touched both women and She Sings stared at him in disbelief. “You would do that? I would have to leave my tribe, though.”

“I know, but it would not be so far that you could not visit, and you would be with your daughter,” Dark Horse said.

She Sings was torn. Being with Sky Dancer would be wonderful, but how would it affect her tribe. She realized that it would actually lessen the burden of providing for another mouth to feed. Could she learn to live as the Lakota did? Then she looked at her daughter. If she can do it, so can I.

She took a deep breath. “I would be honored to go live with your family, and I am very grateful for your consideration and hospitality. I promise to be a productive member of your tribe.”

Sky Dancer couldn’t stop the tears that trickled from her eyes as she hugged her mother. “I am so glad that we will be together.”

“As am I.”

When she released her mother, Sky Dancer gave Dark Horse a grateful smile. His willingness to care for her mother meant more to her than she could express. It also went a long way towards restoring her faith in him. He wouldn’t make such a magnanimous gesture if he didn’t truly care about her. She knew that he was doing this as much for her sake as She Sings’.

“Philámayaye,” she said.

“Tó.”

“Do you really think that you can hold off the Ojibwa?” She Sings asked.

Dark Horse had been thinking about that all day, and it had been discussed among the men, too. “If we can form an alliance with the other tribes, I believe that we have a good chance.” He sighed. “If not, we must prepare ourselves and move west.”

All three of them fell silent while they finished their meal. Someone scratched on the tipi flap, and She Sings granted them entrance. Fang ducked inside, greeted everyone and then motioned for Dark Horse to follow him. The war leader sighed wearily, but followed his Kiowa equal, who looked as tired as he felt.

Before he left, he said, “Sky Dancer, talk we later?”

Sky Dancer nodded. “Yes.”

He gave her a brief smile and went with Fang.

Someone was weeping. Cricket heard it plainly. As his mind began to clear, he realized that more than one person wept. Pain tore at his left shoulder and back as he regained full consciousness and opened his eyes.

He felt a hand in his and automatically squeezed it back.

“Chirping Cricket, you are awake!”

Smiling, Cricket said, “Yes, Moonbeam. I am awake.”

Suddenly, memories of the battle and racing for the village after his fight with the Ojibwa brave filled his mind and he tried to sit up. Agony ripped through his body, and he relaxed back down with a loud groan.

“You should not move, brother,” Moonbeam said.

The rest of the tragedy crashed down upon him and he saw his father’s dead body again. Green Turtle’s eyes had been dull, the life-light gone from them. He shut his eyes against the grief, willing himself not to cry. He was the medicine man and now the man of his family, and he had to remain strong, even in the face of such heartache.

He succeeded at keeping his despair at bay and opened his eyes again. “Are you hurt?”

Moonbeam shook her head. “No, thanks to you. We are being called heroes because we warned the village about our enemies.”

Cricket smiled then frowned as he looked around. “Where am I?”

“In the medicine lodge we made.”

That explained the weeping. He assumed it was coming from the injured or the grieving who were losing loved ones even as he laid there.

“Smoking Fire tended to you,” Moonbeam informed him.

His eyes widened. “Smoking Fire is here?”

“Yes. Chief Soaring Falcon, too. Smoking Fire says that you have a bad bone bruise on your left shoulder and that your back was hurt badly from a war club.”

Cricket said, “I thought it was dislocated. I am glad it is not. Moonbeam, I have to get up to help tend to people and to help properly prepare the...” He swallowed hard. “The bodies of the dead for burial tomorrow morning. Smoking Fire can take care of his people, but he does not know the proper prayers and ritual for ours. It is my duty.”

Moonbeam’s eyes rounded. “You cannot do that. You are not strong enough.”

You are stronger than you think. Bison’s words came clearly to Cricket. “I must and I will. I just need a little help. Can you help steady me?”

Moonbeam stood up. “If you are stupid enough to try this, I will help you, but I think you are very dumb for doing it.”

Cricket laughed and had to stifle a moan of pain. Gritting his teeth against what he knew was coming, he sat up. His head swam and he put his right hand to his forehead. At least he didn’t have a fever. He rolled over on his knees and then Moonbeam helped get him to his feet.

He panted from the pain and exertion. His back burned as though someone had laid a firebrand on it and his shoulder throbbed unmercifully. Holding on to Moonbeam’s shoulder, he stood still until he felt steady.

Then he looked around the medicine lodge and his heart broke anew as he saw the suffering and grief. He shuffled a short distance to where an older woman sat by her son’s side. The man wasn’t far from death, Cricket noted.

The woman looked up at him. “You should not be up.”

He smiled at her. “I am needed.”

She looked down at her son. “There is nothing to be done for him.”

Her acceptance of her son’s imminent death put another little crack in Cricket’s heart. “No, but I need to pray for him.”

With Moonbeam’s help, Cricket made his way around the lodge, giving orders to the women who were nursing the wounded and praying over each person in turn. The women obeyed him without question. No more was he the boy upon whom the duty of medicine man had been thrust. His recent accomplishments had elevated him to the status of an actual medicine man, and they all had a new appreciation of him.

His mother, Green Leaf, came into the medicine lodge, no doubt having been told by someone that he was now awake.

“Cricket! Why are you up? You should be lying down,” she scolded him.

Cricket stood a little straighter. “Mother, I am the medicine man, and I have a duty to perform. Please do not hinder me.”

The quiet authority in his voice surprised his mother, and it made her look at him in a new light. He was becoming an important man, and she was going to have to get used to treating him as such. “You are right. Please be careful.”

She moved aside and Cricket smiled. “Thank you, Mother. I do not think I could do anything reckless at this point.”

Fighting through the pain, he finished in the medicine lodge and then went in search of his chief.

It was very late when Dark Horse returned to She Sings’ tipi. He was surprised to find Sky Dancer sitting outside.

“What are you doing out here?”

She rose and smiled. “Waiting for you. What was the meeting about?”

Dark Horse tiredly rubbed his face. “Nothing good.”

Taking his hand, she said, “Come with me.”

He closed his hand around hers and let her lead him down towards the creek. It was nice just to walk along together, the simple connection between them a balm to him. Moonlight shone down on the creek bank when they emerged from the trees.

They chose a spot and sat down facing each other.

“What wrong?” she asked in his tongue.

Dark Horse signed, “Lightning Strike came back tonight. The Hidasta cannot help us right now. Some of them have the weeping face disease and there is too much risk of infection. One of the other runners returned as well. The Mandan do not want to disturb their peace by warring against the Ojibwa.

“I have a bad feeling that even if your friend comes with ammunition in time that we will not be able to hold them off. The rest of the council agrees, especially Cricket, who insists that we must prepare to leave before it is too late.”

Sky Dancer’s eyes widened. “He is up and around?”

“Barely. He is in great pain, but he is determined to preside over the burial tomorrow,” Dark Horse said.

Sky Dancer’s grief struck her silent, and she looked out over the creek while she struggled to keep her composure. The crickets, frogs, and occasional call of an owl created a soothing, natural song. It was something she missed during the winter. The only sounds then were the rushing, bitter winds and the clacking of bare tree branches together.

Broken Bow had shared her love of the warm months. He had taken her fishing and even shown her how to carve fishhooks from bone. She’d become skilled at it, and she’d made them for some of the men. Her father had been proud of her skill and had sometimes boasted that one of her hooks was as strong as any metal hook made by white men.

That memory made her eyes burn with tears. They overflowed, spilling over her cheeks. She felt Dark Horse’s fingers touch the underside of her chin and gently turn her face to him. The kindness in his eyes completely unraveled the last of her strength and she gave into the anguish that clawed at her.

Dark Horse moved over until he was near enough to pull her over onto his lap. He held her close and rocked her, knowing that she needed the release. She put her arms around his neck, and he kissed her forehead. He said nothing, knowing that words wouldn’t comfort her. Instead, he let his simple closeness help soothe her sorrow.