Journey of the Spirit Read online

  “How will the marriage pull people to Red Cloud?” Hand asked after the long silence.

  “Who is Crazy Horse’s best friend?” Worm asked.

  “He Dog.”

  “Yes. He Dog is one of his best friends, and He Dog is the nephew of Red Cloud.”

  “Ayiee. I think I see. This is all about Red Cloud’s attempt to seize power.”

  “That’s some of it. But it’s not only about Red Cloud seizing power. He’s trying to stop Crazy Horse from gaining power.”

  Hand frowned and cocked his head. “Crazy Horse isn’t looking for power.”

  “I know this, but power is trying to grab Crazy Horse, and Red Cloud knows this.”

  Silence again ensued as Worm stuffed his pipe with the red willow bark. His hands moved with the skill of someone who had practiced this task for years. Why would anyone think Crazy Horse wanted to seize power in the tribe? He’d be the last one who tried that.

  “I don’t understand,” Hand said when Worm had the pipe going strong again.

  “It’s simple. Red Cloud and my son are two very different types of people. Red Cloud rounds up warriors and directs them from a distance. The people respect him for his results, but they don’t respect the man, and this is what he wants most of all. Your brother, on the other hand, doesn’t say, ‘You and you go do this.’ He says, ‘Follow me,’ and people not only respect the results, they respect the man, too.”

  Hand wiped hair out of his face before he spoke.

  “So, Red Cloud is trying to gain power and respect and keep it away from Crazy Horse?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly it. Red Cloud will say the marriage is because No Water is a better provider. He has many more horses, and he has counted more coups than Crazy Horse. This is true, but only because Crazy Horse gives his horses away, and doesn’t boast and brag about his coups. Everyone in the village knows that Crazy Horse has far more coups than even a lot of the older warriors, and he’s only eighteen summers old. No Water is a tool of Red Cloud. Black Twin provided most of the horses he gave in the marriage. No Water has very few of his own.”

  * * * *

  After a hard winter with lots of snow and ice, the bitter cold faded like a tree bleeding sap. Late in the moon of popping trees, February, Lone Bear asked Little Hawk and Hand if they wanted to go find some buffalo. With plenty of dried meat, they didn’t have a starving time this winter, but they’d not had any fresh meat in over a moon.

  It didn’t take him long to convince the boys to go. With his leg healed, but still limping some, Hand jumped at the chance to get away from the lodge. Little Hawk and Hand both looked for adventure and escape from the camp drudgery, but didn’t think they’d really find any buffalo. Most of them had wandered farther south to warmer weather.

  They searched out the shallow places in the thawed rivers, and crossed several as the hunting party traveled south to where Lone Bear thought they might find a few buffalo huddled out of the cold

  That night, they camped by a small creek with no snow covering the grass, allowing the horses to graze. Hand was glad he didn’t have to gather willow bark in the snow to feed the horses. With plenty of firewood, they slept comfortably in their robes close to the fire.

  The next morning turned colder than the one before. Lone Bear set out to scout a small valley not far away. Little Hawk and Hand were content to stay by the fire.

  When the sun reached two hands above the horizon, Lone Bear returned. “I found them! I found them!”

  “You found a buffalo herd?” Little Hawk asked.

  “Yes, they’re over the next ridge to our southeast. Let’s go get them.”

  “Lone Bear, this better not be one of your jokes,” Little Hawk said.

  “No. It’s no joke. There aren’t many, but there are several in the herd.”

  They didn’t take long to get their camp packed and the fire out. Lone Bear led the way to the southeast.

  They tied their horses away from the ridge and trudged through the snow to look into the valley.

  “There had better be buffalo over this ridge. My feet are freezing. I will do you harm if you are joking,” Little Hawk said.

  As he rubbed his hands together, Hand said, “I’ll help him.”

  “You’ll see. They’re there.”

  The young men wormed their way through the snow to the top of the ridge overlooking the valley, and to Hand and Little Hawk’s surprise, several buffalo grazed in the small, sheltered valley.

  Little Hawk pointed to the herd. “Look, in the center.”

  “What?” Lone Bear asked.

  Hand saw what he was talking about, but couldn’t believe his eyes. “It’s a white buffalo.”

  “Shhhh,” Little Hawk said, holding his finger to his lip. “They will hear us.”

  “Hola. I’ve never seen a white buffalo before,” Lone Bear said.

  “Me either. Let us get it,” whispered Little Hawk.

  The three boys slid back down the rim and made their way to the horses. Heading back toward the rim, they stayed downwind of the buffalo.

  “I sure hope the wind doesn’t shift,” Hand whispered.

  “I do too. White buffalo is big medicine,” Little Hawk said.

  “How are we going to kill it?” asked Lone Bear.

  “We will lead our horses to the rim. Should be downwind. We can mount up and charge over the hill, and be halfway to them before they hear or smell us,” Little Hawk said.

  Both Lone Bear and Hand agreed.

  “Who gets to kill it?” Hand asked.

  A devilish grin appeared on Little Hawk’s face. “First one who can bring him down.”

  Both Hand’s and Lone Bear’s heads dropped. Hand slowly shook his. He should’ve known Little Hawk would turn even this into a competition.

  “Be careful, the others will try to protect it,” Lone Bear said.

  Mounting their horses before the rim, Little Hawk shouted, “Let us go get him,” as he kicked his horse in the flanks.

  His horse leaped over the rim, but Hand’s horse followed only a step behind. The horse that Crazy Horse had given him could run.

  As the three boys raced downhill, the buffalo either heard or smelled them. One moment they grazed without a care and the next, they stampeded. As Little Hawk predicted, they were halfway to them before the beasts started to run full speed. The buffalo acted like Lone Bear had warned—they tried to protect the white buffalo. This herd must have run from Indians before, because the big shaggy beasts ran on the right side of the white buffalo.

  When the boys approached the rear of the herd, the buffalo would swing out and make Little Hawk and Lone Bear stop or swerve their horses. Hand smiled. They didn’t know about left-handed Indians.

  He swerved his horse to the left like he’d trained him. It wasn’t long until he pulled up right behind the white buffalo. The other buffalo didn’t seem to notice him.

  Hooves pounded along with Hand’s heart as he raced up beside the animal. The herd kicked up snow, grass, dirt, and rocks as they attempted to flee. Some of it hit Hand, but didn’t hurt.

  As he squeezed tight with his knees, he fitted an arrow into his bow. His horse swung closer to the beautiful white creature as Hand drew the bowstring back. He closed his eyes for a moment. Please don’t let the horse swerve or the string break.

  Everything appeared slow in his mind. He brought the bow up and aimed for the soft spot right behind the frightened beast’s left shoulder. He released the arrow.

  Razor sharp, the arrow entered the white buffalo, pierced the heart, and exited on the bottom right side. Maybe he’d put too much power behind that one.

  The buffalo staggered and slowed as Hand’s horse kept going. As he looked back, the buffalo slumped to his knees and started sliding in clouds of disturbed snow.

  A buffalo bull noticed Hand and swung out. He had another arrow fitted in the bow, shot fast — too fast, and missed. Only the nimbleness of his horse saved him. He did hear a surprised sho
ut over the noise of the running buffalo from someone on the other side.

  Moments later the herd disappeared, and three buffalo lay on the ground—the white one and two Lone Bear and Little Hawk had shot.

  Quiet settled over the plains now that the rumble of the running buffalo had rolled away over the hills. They rode their horses and stood looking at the dead white buffalo for several minutes, totally absorbed in what they saw.

  Lone Bear’s head jerked up from his study.

  “Hola. I almost forgot something.”

  “What is that?” asked Little Hawk

  Lone Bear looked at Hand. “That arrow whistling by my head.”

  “Hey, a bull charged at me and I missed,” Hand stated like it was a normal occurrence.

  “Hand, we tried to tell you it was dangerous to the other hunters. You have to be careful,” Lone Bear said.

  “What are you going to do with the hide?” asked Little Hawk.

  “I don’t know. What should I do with it?”

  “The robe of a white buffalo is big medicine. Our medicine man uses his to cure the sick and dying.”

  “The Great Spirit has given the white buffalo great powers,” Lone Bear said.

  “I think I’ll give him to Crazy Horse.”

  “What!” cried Little Hawk. “Are you crazy? If you are going to give it away, give it to me.”

  “No. Crazy Horse needs cheering up, and I bet this robe’s the thing to do it. Besides, I owe him for giving me this horse.”

  They started to skin the two other buffalo they’d killed. All three worked on one buffalo at a time. Hand was glad. He’d seen it done by the women, but he’d never skinned one himself. With the first one gutted, Little Hawk reached in and pulled out the raw liver. Hand didn’t know why the liver excited them. Little Hawk cut the liver into three pieces and handed one to each boy. Hand stood with the liver in his hand and his mouth wide open in disgust and shock as the two boys ate the raw liver.

  Both boys had blood and juices running out the corners of their mouths.

  “Are you going to eat yours?” Little Hawk asked.

  “Raw!” he almost yelled.

  “Yes, how else would anyone eat a buffalo liver?”

  Green shadows clouded Hand’s face. “Have either of you ever thought about cooking it?”

  “No. We eat the liver raw. It’s good for you after a long winter of dried meat. The juices of the raw liver breathe new life into the body.”

  “It can be good for you because I’m not about to eat no raw liver.”

  “Ayiee, try a small bite, Hand?” Lone Bear said.

  “Nope, I ain’t eating no raw liver.”

  After trying several more times, they gave up—Hand wasn’t about to eat that raw liver dripping blood and juices straight out of a dead buffalo.

  The boys said a prayer to the buffalo, apologizing for killing them. They couldn’t take all the meat and the hides back. It would be hard enough for Hand to carry that large, unclean hide on his horse. His friends cut off several selected chunks of the meat, including the tongue of each beast, and the livers. They carried the meat and Hand carried the white robe rolled up on the back of his horse.

  It was a good thing it wasn’t far to camp. It took all three straining young men to load it onto the horse.

  When they arrived back at the village before darkness, the white buffalo robe drew a huge crowd. Even the older people had never seen one, they were so rare.

  Hand wanted to give the robe to Crazy Horse that night, but he’d left camp by himself doing who knew what.

  That night, Cat Woman came by, and Hand walked with her to the river, sitting on the bank’s edge. She leaned her head on his shoulder. As the moon’s light cast shadows across the dark water, she asked, “Do you think my father will ever change his mind?”

  Long moments passed before Hand responded. He closed his eyes, content with her nearness, but needing more. In a sad voice he said, “I wish he would, but I don’t think so.”

  “He is pressuring me to marry Bull’s Head.”

  Fear darted through his heart. When he shivered, she put her arm around him, snuggling close. “I want only you. I can’t make him understand.”

  Fear and anger churned his emotions, fear of the woman he loved marrying someone else. Thoughts of her in another’s lodge, sleeping together, made his stomach queasy. Anger filled his mind because her father kept them apart for the simple reason, he was born white.

  They sat for a long time with neither speaking. At last, Hand kissed her and held her face. “I love you with all my heart. I want to be with you always, as husband and wife, but I can’t hold you back from happiness. Your father will never change his mind about me. You deserve to marry, have the children you want.”

  She jerked away, her eyes flashing in the moonlight. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Sending me to another man’s bed.”

  Her words formed hollowness in his heart. “No. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy with you. I could never be happy with another man. Even in his robes, my mind would think about you. If I can’t have you as my husband, I will have no other.”

  Hand held her tight. She had spoken the words that he wanted to hear, but he also wished for her happiness. He knew she wanted children.

  Later, they walked back to camp without speaking, holding hands.

  * * * *

  The next day, Hand staked out the white buffalo robe to the ground, and his mother stood over him with a watchful eye to make sure he did everything right. He never realized how hard the women worked until he got through scraping that hide with the bone. It dried in no time, and when Crazy Horse returned, Hand presented it to him.

  Not one to show his emotions, a deeply moved Crazy Horse spent hours at a time decorating the robe in all kinds of colors and sacred designs. Hand had volunteered to paint for him, but Crazy Horse refused, telling his brother that he needed to make the designs himself. When he finished, he left one morning by himself, returning five suns later. Worm told Hand his brother had taken the robe to the high point of the He Sapas, or Black Hills, to leave the robe as a gift to White Buffalo Woman.

  As Hand frowned and scratched his ear, Worm tilted his head. “You always scratch your ear when you are confused.”

  Hand had thought he knew the people’s customs, but he’d never heard of White Buffalo woman. He said so.

  “Ayiee. It is time you know about one of our main spirits. Let’s sit by the lodge.”

  When Ate sat cross-legged on the robe, Hand sat beside him in silence waiting for the elder to speak.

  Worm lit his pipe, had a good draw going, and glanced at Hand. “At our people’s creation, no one had food, but before we starved, Whankan Thanka sent White Buffalo Woman to us.”

  Hand leaned forward. “She is a spirit?”

  Worm’s expression changed to serious. “She is much more than a spirit. White Buffalo Woman is a Wakan, or holy woman. She sits beside the Great Spirit as an equal. When our people starved, she appeared amongst us and taught about the buffalo. How to hunt it, butcher it, and use all of it for clothes, tools, and our lodges.

  “Before she left, she gave us the sacred Buffalo calf pipe, and taught our people to pay homage to the buffalo in the name of the Great Spirit. That is why your brother took the white skin to give to her. She can only receive the best.”

  Hand sat for a long time after Ate entered the lodge. He had a lot still to learn about his adopted people.

  Eight

  Many moons flew by with fights against the Crows, Pawnees, and other Indians, and Crazy Horse became the leader of all the young warriors. Every one of the young ones wanted to go on raids with him. He planned his attacks well, had success, and lost few warriors. Tale after tale circulated among the people from warriors about Crazy Horse charging into a hailstorm of arrows and bullets, never receiving a wound…but he’d never talk about his own deeds or bravery.

  Cat Woman and Hand’s situation
didn’t change. She didn’t feel she could defy her father and marry Hand. Although pained, he understood. He spent many hours in their lodge talking and he believed Cat Woman’s father liked and respected him, but wouldn’t change his mind.

  As she grew older and filled out like few other women in camp, the young men spent an enormous amount of time courting her, visiting, bringing meat to the lodge.

  Filled with jealousy, Hand endured in silence. Cat Woman did make a stand on one point that helped relieve Hand’s worry. She stood up to her father and told him if she couldn’t marry Hand, she wouldn’t marry anyone. Of course, this news didn’t go over well with the other young warriors in the village. Cat Woman was the most beautiful of all the maidens in the village.

  Some of the men were jealous of the young white boy, and others, pretending they didn’t care one way or the other, did voice their opinion that a Lakota woman shouldn’t marry a white.

  Content to be with her, though he longed for marriage, Hand did have several factors working in his favor. Spotted Calf, Cat’s mother, loved him, and put enormous pressure on Brave Bear to change his mind. Also, Brave Bear was Worm’s friend and the brother of Mans Afraid, Crazy Horse’s hunka. With this on his side, Hand decided to try patience, which wasn’t always easy. As they sat holding hands, their bodies allowing no breeze between them, it became almost painful for him.

  Hand had other worries besides marrying Cat Woman. Whites, packing the Holy Road, or Bozeman Trail, swarmed into the Indian hunting grounds in droves, making it hard to hunt.

  One night at the fire, Worm asked, “Hand, do you think you’ll go back to your people?”

  At this question, Crazy Horse and Little Hawk looked at Hand. It appeared that they’d talked about this among themselves, all anxious for his answer.

  Worm’s question confused Hand. He didn’t know what his father meant. His expression said as much.

  “Back to the whites,” Worm said.