Ride the Wind

  CHAPTER 35

  It was the spring of 1843. A year and a half had passed since Old Owl had come looking for Naduah when his band arrived to spend the winter with the Wasps. She had known what he had come for as soon as he entered the lodge. He had sat with her and her family around their evening fire and told them that Cub had been ransomed and had not returned. Tears had splashed over the red rims of his yellowed eyes. They had rolled unheeded along the craggy bluff of his nose, and in and out of the crevices in his face. Finally they hung, poised, on the sharp edge of his jawbone before falling off.

  Spring had come, then summer. In the fall, after the big hunt, Naduah began looking forward to seeing Cub in the winter encampment again. Because she saw him so rarely, it was hard to think of him as truly gone, almost dead. She wanted to tell him many things. She wanted to see if she could still beat him at footraces, and to measure which of them was taller. She wanted to watch him swagger through the village with his friends, leaving trouble strewn behind him in his path.

  She kept busy that winter, helping at home and watching Deep Water court Star Name. Sometimes it was questionable as to who was courting whom. Time had softened and blurred the smallpox scars some, and his large, sad dark eyes overshadowed them anyway. But Deep Water was still shy around Star Name. Which was probably one reason why she was determined to have him.

  "He's not vain like those others. He doesn't worry about his looks or strut and gobble like a turkey cock."

  "You don't have to defend him to me, Sister," said Naduah. "I like him. He'll be one of the finest warriors some day."

  "He already is. He doesn't waste his time staring at himself in the mirror and begging hair from the women."

  "Remember the winter when Skinny And Ugly was parading around with his braids dragging the ground?" Naduah mimicked him. She stalked regally, then turned slowly, holding her head carefully on her rigid neck. As she turned, she kicked at the pretend braids to position them behind her.

  "Only they weren't his braids." Star Name was doubled over with laughter.

  "And when he got up to dance, they fell into the fire." Naduah held her nose. "They smelled worse than the time Weasel tried to light a fire with chicken feathers."

  "He must have taken hair from every pony's tail in the herd. And when he bent over to try to pull the braids out of the flames, Cub set fire to the back of his breechclout." Star Name had to sit down to keep from falling.

  "He's never danced better." And Naduah joined Star Name on the ground.

  "Then Pahayuca pushed him down and sat on him to smother the blaze. Can you imagine being sat on by Pahayuca?" By now the two of them were helpless with laughter. They rocked back and forth in spasms of it, and Naduah pounded the ground in front of her with her moccasin. Finally they lay out on their backs, using their robes to keep them from the cold earth. Star Name rolled over on her side and propped her head on her hand.

  "Which of the boys do you like best?"

  "None of them."

  "The men, then. Which of them do you like?"

  Naduah laced her fingers behind her head and pretended to study the tree branches above her. "I haven't thought about it."

  "Yes, you have. You're waiting for Wanderer."

  "I am not!" Naduah jerked up to a sitting position.

  "There's nothing wrong with that. He's worth waiting for."

  "I'm not waiting for anybody. And he certainly isn't waiting for me. He's probably married already."

  "Did he say when he'd be back?"

  "Two years, or three."

  "Then he still has time. If he said he'd be here, he will," said Star Name. "You can be sure of that."

  "I can be sure he has no interest in me. A child. A nobody."

  Star Name smiled at her as she got up and threw off her robe. "Enough chatter. I'll race you to the river. Loser cooks dinner for everyone."

  As winter passed, the sky turned from gray to blue and a pale green fuzz covered the brown of the plains. The scent of flowers saturated the air. Naduah lay awake each night breathing the fragrance. As the earth and the People celebrated spring, as the days became longer and warmer and the flowers turned the hills into an ocean of brilliant color, Naduah became more miserable.

  While her family slept peacefully, she tossed and turned, searching for the cause of her misery. But it lay, tiny and hard, buried deep inside her. It was like the root of a plant that has died back, leaving no trace of itself on the hard winter earth. If she could find it and identify it the way Medicine Woman found hidden roots in winter, maybe she could help herself.

  As she worked each day amid the laughter and chatter that surrounded her, she pulled deeper and deeper into herself. To her, the women sounded like the magpies and jays and wrens that rioted in the treetops all day long. Star Name was preoccupied with thoughts of Deep Water and walked around humming. Her joy only intensified Naduah's vague longings.

  She couldn't hide her feelings. There was very little hidden in the warm lodge. One morning as they were all stretching and yawning and getting ready to bathe at the river, Takes Down spoke casually. As she talked, she went on shaking out her clothes and moccasins to make sure no little creatures had moved into them during the night.

  "Has your time come. Daughter? Are you bleeding?"

  "No, Pia. It's only been ten days since I stopped." And she knew that Takes Down knew it. Naduah had begun her monthly bleeding a year before. Once the initial excitement was over, she resented it. The men wouldn't let her ride or train their horses while she bled. It was very bad medicine. She had to stay away from everyone, and fast for four days. She couldn't wash her face or she would wrinkle sooner. She couldn't comb her hair or she'd turn gray. Now she almost wished she were bleeding. At least she wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Medicine Woman spoke up.

  "Do you feel sick, Granddaughter? Does something hurt you?"

  "No." She started to cry, and cried harder because there was no reason to cry. "Just leave me alone." She tried to dart out of the lodge, but Takes Down's round body blocked the doorway. She caught her daughter in her arms and held her. Naduah tugged and pushed to get away, but couldn't.

  "What's wrong, little one?" said Medicine Woman.

  "I wish I were dead."

  "Granddaughter, never wish that."

  "I do."

  "Remember what Sunrise told you. Get up each morning and listen. Look around you. Give thanks for the sunlight and for your own body and spirit. For your family and food and the joy of living."

  "Those things don't make me happy. I'm tired of living."

  "Then there is a lack in yourself. Look carefully around you. Study the beauty of the world. We don't need you here today. Go work with Sunrise's new pony. And when you come back this evening, tell me the three most beautiful things you saw or heard or smelled or touched. Share them with me. Describe them so I can see them with these sightless eyes. Will you do that for me?"

  Naduah was suddenly ashamed. "Yes, Grandmother." She hugged her mother, her arms almost reaching around Takes Down now. Then she went to Medicine Woman's bed and, kneeling down, held her close.

  Water dripped from Naduah and from Sunrise's new sorrel pinto as she rode him bare-backed out of the river and onto the slightly sloping bank. He stood straddle-legged on the coarse red sand, trembling and snorting while she stroked his neck and rubbed the area in front of his ears. She often broke in a pony by mounting him in the water, where he couldn't run or buck as much. But she used that method only in warm weather, because she was always thoroughly soaked when she finished.

  Gradually the pony calmed as she crooned to him, leaning over to put her mouth close to his ear. He flicked it, shook his head and sidestepped, but she clung to him. Her lean, strong thighs sensed his moves before he made them. Her long blond hair was braided to keep it out of her eyes, and she wore only moccasins and an old dress.

  The water felt good, a cool layer between her skin and the heat of the sun's rays. When she was sure the pony ha
d quieted and wouldn't bolt, she reached up and untied her braids. She shook her head so the hair would fall free and begin to dry in the heat.

  "Hi tai, hello, woman friend." She looked up, startled by the familiar voice. He hadn't changed much in the past year and a half. His features were a little more angular, chiseled closer to the bone by responsibility. His eyes seemed deeper and more luminous, with golden glints in them, like phosphorescence in the black waters of underground pools. He rode toward her, Night picking his way delicately over the tumbled, polished rocks at the edge of the narrow beach,

  "Hello, Wanderer." Naduah stopped in confusion. She was suddenly aware that her skirt was hiked to the tops of her thighs, and that she had become a woman since last she had seen him. The wet, thin suede dress clung to her body. With his leg almost touching hers he sat on Night, studying her in that way of his. Enough, she thought. I'm no longer a child for you to tease and embarrass. She lifted her chin slightly and stared steadily back at him, waiting for him to finish his inspection of her. Because that was obviously what he was doing. But though she maintained her dignity, she couldn't bring herself to ask him if he approved of the changes the years had made in her.

  In silence they turned and headed at a walk toward the village on the terrace bordering the deep, rapid river. The sorrel followed docilely alongside Night, and Wanderer and Naduah rode almost knee to knee. The Wasps' lodges stood among the white oak and overcups, the elms and hackberry trees along Sac-con-eber, the Little Wichita River. They could hear the laughter of children as they dove and splashed and threw sticks for their dogs to fetch.

  "I remember when we used to do that," said Naduah, breaking the silence. "Star Name and the dead Arrow Maker's granddaughter and I."

  "Knowing Star Name, I suppose she still plays like that."

  Naduah grinned at him. "She never changes much. Not inside. But now she wants to marry, you know."

  "No, I didn't know. My sources of information aren't that good. And we just arrived, Spaniard, Big Bow, and I."

  "Big Bow?"

  "The Kiowa. He's running from an irate husband again. They've gone ahead with the ponies and the packs. I came to find you. One of the children said you'd be here. Tell me the gossip. Who's the unfortunate warrior that Star Name has picked out?"

  "What do you mean, unfortunate?" Naduah bristled a little, and Wanderer laughed, raising his arm as though to deflect a blow.

  "I mean she's such a stong-willed—" he hesitated ever so slightly, "—woman. She'll be a lot for a man to handle."

  "I like her that way."

  "I like her kind of woman too, but not many men do." He stared at her solemnly. "Whom does she want to marry?"

  "Deep Water. He's a very brave warrior, but he doesn't have enough horses to buy her. She said she was tired of waiting for him to steal them, so she's gone off on a raid with him. I think she intends to steal ponies to buy herself for him." Wanderer laughed, and Naduah looked at him with delight. She had missed that laugh, rare as it was even when he was around. Tell me the three most beautiful things you saw or heard or touched today. That's easy, Grandmother. Wanderer. Wanderer. Wanderer.

  "How is Medicine Woman?" Naduah jumped a little at his question. Could he read minds too? She wouldn't be surprised.

  "She's well enough, although I think she's getting weaker and won't admit it. It's amazing how she gets around. People who don't know her often don't realize she's blind."

  "And Pahayuca?"

  "He doesn't change either, unless he's gained a few more pounds. On Pahayuca it's hard to tell. Wind had a foal, a colt. I'll show him to you. I bred her with one of Pahayuca's best stallions.

  "And Old Owl had to sell Cub back to the white people. They took him away over a year ago and he hasn't returned. Some people say Cub turned white again, but Old Owl swears that won't happen."

  "What do you think?"

  "I agree with Old Owl."

  "Has anyone tried to buy you back, Naduah?" It was a painful question, but Wanderer felt he had to ask it.

  "No. but some traders were here last month and stared at me. They were probably just surprised to see me. I suppose I stand out here."

  "If traders come, keep out of sight." The intensity in his voice startled her.

  "Wanderer, it's been seven years. They've forgotten all about me back there."

  "They hadn't forgotten Cub. And have you forgotten them?"

  "Yes." She didn't even stop to think about it. "I'm one of the People. I would die if I were taken away, like a fish dies when it's thrown up on shore."

  He didn't answer her, and they rode in silence for a few moments. Finally Naduah asked what was on her mind.

  "Will you be staying long this time?"

  "That depends."

  "On what?"

  "On how long it takes me to do what I came here to do."

  "What did you come here to do?"

  "Find a wife."

  Naduah flinched. Stupid! So you thought you were finally a woman. You're still a child to him. You always will be. She tried to keep her voice light.

  "Do you have someone in mind?"

  "Yes."

  "Wanderer!" Pahayuca and Buffalo Piss and several of the men galloped toward them through the village, waving their robes over their heads. War ponies reared at their tethers and neighed in fright and dogs scattered in front of them. Naduah spoke fast.

  "I suppose I won't see you again until you leave and come to say good-bye as usual."

  He only had time to grin at her before he was surrounded and herded good-naturedly toward the council lodge. She watched him go, then slid off the sorrel and led him toward her tent. As she walked through the camp, she noticed the slight change that had come over it. The unmarried women were suddenly interested in their appearance. Several of them were combing and rebraiding their hair. And mirrors and paint were brought outside where the light was better. There was more tittering and more bustling as others tried to show how industrious they were.

  They're disgusting. Like dogs groveling for meat scraps. If Wanderer wants one of them, he deserves her. Naduah's hair had almost dried in the sere air of the plains, and she tossed her head to shake stray wisps of it out of her eyes. It fell in gentle ripples to her waist, like a field of pale wheat ruffled by a light breeze. As she strode along, the rounded curves of her body flowed smoothly under her thin dress.

  But inside, she was empty of everything but despair. It was finally going to happen. She had been dreading it for years. As she went looking for Medicine Woman for consolation, she remembered her grandmother's words the first time Wanderer had left, seven long years ago. "He belongs to all of us." Now, even worse, he would belong to only one.

  Naduah sat disconsolately in front of her lodge, watching the evening fire die down. She had pulled her knees up in front of her, laid her arms across them, and rested her chin on her forearms as she waited to cover the fire with ashes for the night. She was using the chore as an excuse not to go to the dance, not to see the women flirting with Wanderer. The full moon was so bright she could see colors in the pretty quartz pebbles that littered the ground. From another part of the village she could hear the rise and fall of drumming and singing, carried on a fitful breeze.

  The music had been going on for hours. She stood and looked toward where the drumming was coming from. The lodges glowed softly, like huge, fat candles set out under the canopy of trees. Overhead, the moon winked at her through the clouds, as though trying to cheer her up.

  A pony trotted from among the lodges and headed in her direction. It was Night. As usual, Wanderer leaped off before Night had stopped completely. Wanderer dropped to the ground as gracefully and as casually as a mountain cat. The light from the fire and the moon gleamed on the rippling muscles under his smooth, chestnut skin.

  As he turned to throw the reins over Night's back, Naduah realized that he was naked. He wore moccasins and a breechclout, of course, but he was naked. The straight lines of the breechclout only emph
asized and framed his long, lean body. It was the first time she had ever stared at a man that way. And it frightened her. But he fascinated her too. She couldn't take her eyes off the flowing curves of his legs, the power of his haunches, and the straight line of his back. He wasn't handsome. He was beautiful. He was like a wild animal perfectly built for the life he led. And he was as unconscious of his beauty as a wolf or a panther. She took a deep breath, clenched her fists at her sides, and spoke.

  "Sunrise isn't here. He went to the dance."

  "I know. I saw him. I came to find out why you aren't dancing."

  "I told Takes Down The Lodge I would cover the fire for her."

  "How many hours does it take you to cover the fire?" He was mocking her again. Why didn't he find his wife and go back to the Staked Plains and leave her in peace? Peace, she thought miserably. Was it possible to mourn someone who still lived?

  "Come. You can ride with me." He waited while she covered the fire.

  "I'll walk." As she started toward the sound of the drums, she heard Night trotting up behind her. A strong pair of hands gripped her, and almost as easily as when she had been a child, Wanderer lifted her up in front of him. His arms were like gentle vices around her and she knew there was no point in struggling. He thought of her as a child still, and there was no way she could prove him wrong. He would call her sister, and marry someone else, and go away and never come back.

  She sat stiffly until they came to the ring of dancers just beginning to sway to the slow drumbeat. Overhead soared the black sky, brilliant with stars. The leaping light from the fire danced counterpoint to the slow drums. Naduah dismounted and joined the watchers, humming the low chant of the love dance along with the other singers.

  The circle of women faced outward, rising from their heels to their toes in time with the music. Then they glided to the left, holding their arms out and choosing a partner from among the men. Wanderer didn't wait to be chosen. He put his hands on Naduah's shoulders. His touch sent chills down her spine and spawned a slight churning sensation somewhere below her stomach. It was the first time she had ever danced with him.