Chapter 7: Saturday Night in the Tipi

When we arrived ... there was no one there. We had been abandoned. A note was pinned to my lodge door.

'Hairy, John was bit by a rattler. We've taken him to the nearest hospital. He's very sick. Don't worry Simone about it. Steve.'

Did they have to pin it? Every little hole causes a leak, dammit! I gave the note to Simone ... she just laughed.

"Serves him right," she said. "He doesn't take instruction all that well. Since he knows everything you can't teach him a thing. Let's go see what they left me for a note."

We walked over to her tent ... pinned to her door was a note written in Sharpie.

'Simone, I'm fine. They're in a panic about a little bite. I'll probably have to stay the night for observation. I'll be back. When you're dealing with idiots you expect moronic behavior. John'

Just a little note, written in Sharpie, on a the back of a piece torn from her sketchpad ... with a finished portrait of the professor on the front of it. Naturally, the ink bled through. She crumpled the note ... and drawing ... and cried. I held out my arms and she fell into them.

"Promise me just one thing?" she sobbed.

"Anything."

"Don't treat me like I'm a child," she begged. "I'm 19 years old, my parents are dead. My boyfriend is an uncaring Philistine ... and I'm sooo horny!" I picked her up and she squeaked ... I'd goosed her with one of the blanks. " Get me inside and go put the damn things in the Artifacts Tent. The professor can have two shocks in the morning. And don't peek."

I pushed open the tipi door and carried her over to the bed, started to lay her down on my prized buffalo robe ... when I remembered she was covered in sand. I really didn't want my thousand dollar fall killed and tanned buffalo robe full of sand so I stood her on her feet and said, in my best Arnold voice, "I'll be back." Simone cracked up. I took the shirt wrapped blanks to the artifacts tent.

I got some bottled water from the cook tent and poured some of the washing water in a pail and went back to my lodge.

Simone had pulled my sleeping bags from under the buffalo robe and was sitting on one of my tipi chairs. I set the pail down and went back outside to fetch some firewood from my pristene 1964 Dodge TownWagon. I keep the good stuff in the back: Apple, cherry, hickory, and a little red oak live in the Van. Pine and cottonwood are in the tipi near the door.

'Apple, I think ... this fire needs to smell grand.' I filled my canvas wood carrier with apple and carried it into the fire pit. Using my flint and steel I struck a spark into a small clump of dried tree moss. Blowing on the ember until I had flame, I placed the burning moss in a small nest of shavings in the pit and built a nice wigwam of apple wood around it. I poured the pail of water in my basin and placed it on the cooking rock to heat. I stripped. I was so hard I could barely stand it.

I asked Simone to stand, I took my raven's wing and dusted her with tiny waving strokes. Starting with her face and working my way down her body to her feet, I asked her to turn slowly around so I could get all the sand.

"Remove your shorts, please." I suggested. "This is very important to me, very ... ceremonial ... please, be patient with me. I need to do this." Oh, That's right. She's shaved!

The water was steaming and I laid down a small tarp and asked her to stand on it. I brushed out her hair, then I washed her all over with homemade yucca soap, rinsed her, and smudged her with sweetgrass and cedar sage sticks. She glowed. I began to explain what and why I was doing what I was doing.

"Smudging is very important in Native ceremonials. The Sweetgrass Hills in north central Montana are sacred to many tribes. The grass is pulled, not cut, blessed by the shaman and braided. The ends are tied with red thread and the braid is allowed to dry.

"Cedar and sage are gathered in the spring when they are sweet and new, tied together in small bundles and dried. When, in the fullness of time, they are needed for ceremony, a shaman is paid to bless them and they're ready for use. My bundles were gathered by me and blessed by three tribes, Lakotah, Dakotah, and Cheyenne. I am an adopted member of the Northern Cheyenne.

"Today, by this ceremony, you are a new woman. Cleansed by fire made with no match, dusted without touching by this raven's wing, made whole by the power of the yucca, and blessed by the rinsing of the waters. I smudged you with cedar and sage to drive out fear. I smudged you with sweetgrass to give you the peace of the prairie wind. I find you pleasing to my sight. You are truly beautiful." and I laid her on the buffalo robe.