Prarie Fire Part 15

Devlin watched as Matt twirled his rope a few times and effortlessly captured the dun mare. The horse pulled back by raising his head, but Matt had braced his feet and begun to reel in the fresh animal. He gave the horse to Devlin to saddle and hustled up his rope to catch the next animal.

Devlin turned and made her way to the chuck wagon and her own dinner. She couldn't help the uncharacteristic smile that graced her features. She would continue to keep an eye on Matt, but at least she wouldn't have to worry so much about him. Matthew was shaping up fine and Devlin felt like a proud parent.

"You finally get hungry, boss?" Hank popped another sourdough biscuit into his mouth when Devlin sat on the ground beside him.

"You too?"

Hank laughed, his brown eyes twinkling. "Don't tell me you're missin' home already. We ain't even one day out."

"I was missing home the minute my b.u.t.t hit the saddle this morning, my friend."

"Yeah, but just think of the homecomin' you two'll have." Hank waggled his brows.

"You got a filthy mind. Is that all you ever think about?"

"Pretty much. And don't tell me you won't be missin' it. Every rider in the bunkhouse can hear you two when ya get goin' at night." Hank rose and dumped his dishes in the wreck pan by the chuck wagon.

Devlin's face turned into a look that Hank could only describe as sheer embarra.s.sment coupled with terror. He pa.s.sed by the seated woman on his way back to the herd.

"Is that-" Devlin nearly choked on her biscuit. "Is that the truth, Hank?"

"Nah. I just wanted to see that look on yer face." He tipped back his head and laughed loudly.

Devlin could never admonish her friend for his teasing since his affable manner and laughter were infectious. She laughed out of utter relief. "You're ridin' drag tomorrow, you son of a b.i.t.c.h," she called out, which caused the man to laugh louder.

Devlin swallowed the last of her food and tossed the dirty dishes into the wreck pan. The pile of dirty dishes awaited the nighthawk or the wrangler's hands to wash them before the cook could move on.

"I marked a good spot for ya, Bob, plenty of brush for firewood. You need Matt for eatin' irons detail?"

"No, boss, Francisco will help."

Francisco was not only the nighthawk, but also Bob's son. He was a friendly enough young man, about Matt's age, whom the riders called Frankie. Devlin remembered the day she had hired him. At first, she'd been hesitant. She took one look at the scrawny youngster and shook her head. After Bob had his son demonstrate his talent with horses and his skill at driving a bed wagon, Devlin changed her mind.

Once mounted, Devlin rode by the herds checking the cattle. When she saw some of them lying down, she knew they had grazed enough. She stopped and spoke to her foreman with instructions on crossing the Was.h.i.ta River.

Willow trees lined the red clay banks of the river. This would probably be the most uncomplicated crossing of the drive. Rain could quickly flood the river, but since there hadn't been any substantial rainfall in months, they would easily be able to ford the Was.h.i.ta.

Devlin led the way to a spot called Rock Crossing. The river was extremely wide, but halfway across, the riverbed changed from sand to hard rock. The cattle had few problems crossing the shallow water and Devlin ordered the men to slow their pace to almost a crawl to let the beeves drink their fill.

Six miles later, in the middle of a rolling prairie, Devlin sat astride Alto atop the highest hill. She took her hat off and circled it high over her head. Two miles away, the point man saw her and gave the signal to Hank. Hank waved until he was sure Devlin had seen him. Then he directed his men to drive the cattle to their bed ground for the night.

Devlin watched the herd below and breathed an uneasy sigh of relief; one day gone and probably forty-five more to go. She thanked the spirits that watched over her for a first, uneventful day. Hours later, she watched as the men once again split into shifts to eat dinner. The tempting aromas coming from the camps made her mouth water, but Devlin rode around the encampments to check on the herds and the men before she stopped for her own supper.

When the exhausted woman rode into camp, she again checked on Matt. Supper was the one meal the wrangler didn't eat before anyone else. Frankie was off somewhere curled up in his bedroll, catching what sleep he could before the cattle were bedded down and he would have to take over the remuda. This meant that once Matt had arrived at their campsite, a few hours before the cattle, he had a lot of work to do. He had to gather firewood, dig a fire trench for the cook, help to unload the chuck wagon, and if necessary, grind the Arbuckles coffee.

Devlin smiled to herself and wondered if Matt would have as much energy that evening as he did at noontime. She dismounted and unsaddled Alto before Matt drove his remuda into the rope corral. The men took turns getting their night horses. They saddled the animals and picketed them by wherever they threw their bedrolls.

Willie Abbott had just gotten a fresh horse at noon, but he had Matt place his white mare, Belle, back in the remuda. Devlin saddled a different horse for the night. The drovers were superst.i.tious when it came to white horses and lightning. Devlin had learned on her first cattle drive that most of the men believed that white animals attracted lightning. She had openly scoffed at the notion until one night during a thunderstorm, while riding guard, she saw a bolt of lightning hit a white steer, then jump to another white cow twenty-five yards away. It killed both beeves and set off a stampede that lasted most of the night.

"Well, you hungry yet?" Devlin asked Matt as Frankie took over the remuda.

"You know it!" he said.

"Me too, let's see what's on the menu."

Devlin had seen Bob butchering a steer earlier in the day, so she already knew what supper would consist of. For at least a couple of days after a fresh kill, the men would eat son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h stew. Devlin had no idea where it got its name, but most said it had every part of the cow in it but the tail. It was a mixture of tongue, liver, heart, and all the rich parts that the cook had to use that day. Bob used only the juices from the meat, so it was the most flavorful stew a drover ate.

During their supper, Matt and Devlin sat apart from the other riders. It wasn't uncommon for the trail boss to remain somewhat aloof, and most of the riders already knew Devlin's reputation as a woman of few words. Devlin tried to take the time when she and Matt were alone to answer his questions and teach him lessons that would help him on the trail.

After finishing the hearty meal, Matt helped Bob with dishes and cleanup. Devlin mounted her night horse and took off to check the herds. Devlin gave directions to bed the cattle down on the high ground to take advantage of the breeze. She also set up teams of riders in each herd to be on stampede watch. These men didn't have to watch the beeves all night, but they would be the ones to jump in the saddle at the first sign of trouble. Devlin had learned years before that it was easier to stop a stampede with a few well-coordinated men than with a dozen yelling riders, all moving in a different direction. She said a quick prayer that they saw no such trouble on this night or any other.

Devlin looked at the gold watch she held tucked into her vest pocket. She could have guessed it was nearly ten o'clock when the first, or c.o.c.ktail, guard rode out and all the other men rode into camp. By the time Devlin made it to camp, most of the men were sitting around the wagon talking or spreading out their bedrolls. She watched as the cook turned the tongue of the wagon toward the North Star.

"Thought you'd be sound asleep already," she said to Matt.

He had placed his bedroll near the spot where Devlin put her own blankets earlier. "Guess I was too excited, ya know?"

"Yeah, I think I was the same way on my first drive. Feels like a hundred years ago, though."

"Do you mind? I mean, is it okay if I bed down here?" Matt indicated the area near Devlin's blankets.

"Sure, make yourself a s.p.a.ce there." He sank down onto the blankets with a sigh. "Sure feels good at the end of the day, don't it?"

"You know it," Matt said. He sat up and began to take off his boots.

"Sleep with your boots on for the first few nights," Devlin said. "Till the beeves are more trail broke. The first few nights are when they're the touchiest. If they come runnin' over us in the middle of the night, at least you'll be ready to jump in the saddle."

Devlin pulled a long-handled blade from a sheath on her leg and cut up the Osage orange fruit that she'd gathered earlier in the day. Since it had dried, it was tough to cut. "Here," she handed a few chunks to Matthew, "put these in the bottom of your bedroll. Make sure they don't fall out when you roll it up in the morning. It'll keep the bugs out of your blankets."

"Great. Thanks, Dev."

"You did a good job out there today, Matt. You got a real feel for the rope."

The sounds of the night guards mounting up and riding out of camp interrupted their conversation. Devlin flipped open the top case on her watch and noted the time.

"Do all the riders have watches like that, Dev?"

"No, this one belonged to my father." Devlin snapped the lid closed before Matt could see the inside. "Most of the men use the stars to tell time." She watched Matt's confused expression. "Look," she pointed into the sky, "there are some times the men always want to know during the night. First is ten o'clock. At ten, the first guard goes out, they ride herd for two hours before trading places with the next man. It's ten o'clock right now. See the Big Dipper over there and the North Star in the Little Dipper?" She turned to look at Matt as he nodded.

"At ten o'clock, the Big Dipper's handle is up and the dipper is down, like if you had anything in the dipper part, it would all run out. It's just northwest of the North Star. By four in the morning, the Big Dipper has rotated until it's horizontal, or like it was sittin' on a table. Then it's southwest of the North Star. Eventually, you get kind of good at splitting it up into two-hour shifts. You already know the position at the beginning and the end. All you have to do is put two more spots in the middle."

"Swell," Matt said as he looked up at the stars.

Devlin continued on and turned to Matt and wondered how long she'd been talking to herself. He was sound asleep. Devlin clasped her hands behind her head and listened to the sounds of the cattle. It would most likely be midnight before the beeves settled down and lay on the ground to rest. She looked into the night sky and thought of Sarah. She wondered if Sarah was asleep or if she was looking at the same stars at which Devlin gazed.

"Good night, sachu-kash," Devlin whispered before she rolled over and went to sleep.

Chapter 13.

Sarah stepped from Tima's chuka and stared at the stars. She felt as she always did when looking into the night sky, as though she were small and insignificant in a world so large. She thought of Matt and Devlin, hoping they were safely asleep.

Sarah sat on the dry gra.s.s beside the chuka. The ground was still warm from the heat of the day. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there. Almost all of the cook fires around the village had grown cold. It was quiet, apart from the nighttime noises from the prairie. It had been too hard to sleep without Devlin lying next to her. It hadn't even been one full day since Devlin and Matt rode off toward Abilene. Sarah already missed them both.

Sarah felt a hand on her arm and jerked away, startled. "Goodness, Nali! You're going to have to clear your throat or something, so I can hear you coming." She placed a hand over her heart in an attempt to return it to a regular rhythm.

"I may move silently, but this time, you looked as though you were miles away from this place."

"I was." Sarah smiled. "My mind is where my heart lies."

"And do I need to ask where that would be?"

"That's easy. Wherever Devlin is."

Tima squeezed Sarah's arm to rea.s.sure her. "Perhaps you should give yourself some time, Sakli. Maybe tomorrow will not be a good day to begin your lessons."

"No, I don't want to wait." Sarah brushed her fingers through her hair and the unconscious gesture reminded Tima of Devlin's mannerisms.

"It's not that I want to rush anything. I know that you and Keeho have explained that I need to work on developing patience. I'm trying, really I am. It's just that I want something to do, some way to move forward and tax my mind, as well as my body. If I don't have something like that to focus on, I'll just worry even more."

Tima nodded in agreement. She understood Sarah's reasoning. It had been many seasons past, but she remembered the first time Tekola went away with the warriors on a hunt. A full moon pa.s.sed before she saw her husband again, and Tima had to keep herself constantly occupied for fear of giving in to her worries.

"I'm a little worried about Hannah, though." Sarah voiced her concern because she knew that Tima would have an answer for her fear. "Will she be all right while I have to be doing all this training and learning?"

"She had no problem seeing the clan as family today, did she?"

"No," Sarah smiled, "she didn't." Hannah had refused to leave Tima's side once she learned that Tima was Devlin's mother. By the end of the day, Hannah was calling Tima "ipokni," or grandmother. Tima seemed just as thrilled. She introduced Hannah to the women and other children of the village with pride. Sarah was secretly delighted that Tima so readily accepted her children.

Sarah and Hannah had arrived in the village earlier that day. Sarah had driven the wagon full of supplies and items with which she wanted to trade with the clan. The Chahta believed that a good trading technique was a mark of good character. Sarah was learning, even if on some days it came slower than on others.

Sarah also tied her new pony, Coal, to the wagon. He was a spirited gelding whose coloring was as black as pitch, hence his name. Sarah fell for the animal instantly. He reminded Sarah of her beloved Telemachus, whom she had to put down after he broke his front legs in a fall that nearly cost Sarah her life, as well.

"Hannah is a good girl and very pleasant to get along with. She will enjoy having other children her own age to play with. When I am teaching you, Oka kapa.s.sa will watch over Hannah, as she does all the girls. When you are with Keeho or away from the village, I will see to Hannah. When she is with me, it will be as if you have never left her side."

"Thank you, Nali."

A slow smile spread across Tima's face. "You have given my daughter something she has dreamed of all her life. You have taken her family into your heart and you have encouraged the children of your body to become the children of her hearth. It is you who deserves thanks, Sakli."

Sarah lowered her head, overwhelmed by Tima's words. They sat together for a few more moments in silence until Sarah finally spoke. "What will we do tomorrow? How will we start?"

Instantly, Tima became the teacher. Her face was a study in neutrality, her emotions well hidden. She patted Sarah's arm and rose. "What will happen tomorrow is best left until tomorrow. Come back in and rest, Sakli. Your new life will begin soon enough."

Tima pulled aside the deerskin flap and entered the chuka. Sarah watched the retreating figure with a smile. One moment Tima could be the loving mother, and the next moment, she turned into the plain-speaking healer.

"She's right. I can't go all summer without sleeping just because Dev isn't here." Sarah sighed deeply, closed her eyes, and lifted her face to the warm summer breeze. "Good night, my tashka." She gazed once more at the stars and went inside. Although it was a long time in coming, sleep eventually claimed Sarah.

"I already know how to braid, Nali," Sarah complained. "Is this a part of my training?"

Tima and Sarah sat outside the healer's chuka. Tima also had a personal chuka. Medicine affected people, as well as their lodgings. The spirits and their powers could affect even inanimate objects.

It was an accepted practice among the clan not to interrupt a healer unless he or she called out to the pa.s.ser-by. Whenever Sarah sat with Tima beside the cooking fire of Tima's personal chuka, there was much happening around the village. People stopped to talk, children played, and old women would occasionally nap in the afternoon. Now that Sarah and Tima sat beside Tima's lodge, no one spoke to them or came close. Sarah realized that this behavior was what she could expect for her future. She was learning how to become Chahta, and if she succeeded, to train as a medicine woman. Whether Sarah saw it that way or not, the Thunderbird clan looked on her as special.

"Even when we are learning, there is still work to be done," Tima said.

"So am I working or training?" Sarah asked in confusion, her brows knitted together.

"Is there a reason you must make a distinction?"

"Well, I-" Sarah didn't finish her thought. She knew what she sounded like-Na hollo ohoyo. She sounded like a white woman. Everything had to have an answer instead of being. Sarah mentally chided herself. She knew that the Chahta looked at the world differently than her people did. Daily clan life was much more relaxed. Tima's matter-of-fact personality was similar to Keeho's; the medicine people looked at life with more of an accepting style. They realized that there were things in life they could control and things they could not. They found no sense in worrying, expending energy, on matters that were beyond their reach.

Tima, satisfied that Sarah had found an intelligent answer to her own question, answered her. "You are not simply braiding." She spread long, thin bundles of sweetgra.s.s on a straw mat. "You are working and training. As a child, you learned to crawl before you began to walk. Now you must learn to be Chahta before you can train as a medicine woman. You must learn our ways before you can hope that one of the clan mothers will choose to take you under her wing and teach you her way."

Sarah nodded.

"Some of this gra.s.s we will leave in long lengths to dry. Later, we will use the dried gra.s.s to weave baskets to store clothing. Some of the gra.s.s we will use to fashion small baskets, or bundles, in which we place a newborn baby's navel cord." Sarah worked with her hands and listened to Tima. Tima hoped this technique would become a first step in focusing for Sarah. Tima had learned as a child that basket weaving could be soothing, almost meditative.

"You have heard me talk of the sacred hoop. Everything we do as Chahta has its place within in a circle. Today we create totems that we will use in ceremonies later. We braid the length of sweetgra.s.s while it is still pliable. We tie it into a circle and hang it in the chuka to dry. These will be used to burn for purification." Tima took a few moments to show Sarah how to tie and tuck the ends of the braided length of sweetgra.s.s. In no time, they had a small mound of hoops beside them.

"All of life exists within a circle," Tima said as her fingers worked without pausing. "The circle has many names, but it is most often called a medicine wheel. It is difficult for some to see. It is a way of thinking, thinking in circles. We humans are not the only objects to exist within the circle. Plants, animals, water, and fire, they are all a part of the wheel. Every living creature, even the rocks beneath your feet, the four winds that blow in your face, and the seasons that change every few moons, these are all a part of the circle of life. Everything has a purpose and a reason for being. One cannot exist without the other. When one ends, another begins. Where there is death, there will always be life. Nothing ever ceases to be when all the parts of the wheel work together. We do not live in straight lines, but in circles.

"The medicine wheel can be a complex tool for the holy ones, but its concept and use are simple to those of us who think of it in terms of our daily lives. We all enter the wheel at different points at birth and spend the rest of our lives traveling around it. A cross divides the circle, which indicates the four directions. Each direction of the wheel governs a time span of three moons. The phase of the moon you are born under will determine those aspects of your life that the medicine wheel will dominate. For ages, we have used the wheel to share Mother Earth's power. Through it, we find that we have certain strengths within us based on our time of birth and position on the wheel."

Neither Sarah nor Tima stopped their work, but Sarah listened intently as Tima spoke. "We live in a world that is filled with opposites. For the darkness of night, there exists the brightness of day. There is fire and water, the sun and the moon. They are opposites, yet they exist together. The key to this harmonious existence between Mother Earth's elements is the same thing we strive for within ourselves. The wheel reminds us of this concept. Through balance, we achieve our ultimate goal of a perfectly natural existence as a part of Mother Earth."

"So I spend my life trying to become as balanced as everything I see in nature?" Sarah asked.

"It is a concept the white man has found difficult. They wish to master the world around them. In reality, they should be learning how to master themselves. A woman strives to achieve balance within the circle by coming to know the warrior that exists within her as well as she knows the feminine side of her being. The only way to change the world around you, Sakli, is to first change yourself."

Sarah nodded. She thought about herself and her personality. She'd always wondered where some of her traits had come from. Had it been a whim of creation or her place in the wheel? She also knew that she lacked balance in her life. She had been a victim many times. When she met Devlin, she wished that she was more like the strong, fearless rider. After hearing Tima's words, Sarah realized that she could do with a few additional warrior-like qualities. Perhaps that was the reason she and Devlin made such a good match. Though they were opposites in many ways, there was a balance about them as a couple.

"Come, Sakli, we have as much learning as working yet to fill up our day." Tima smiled at Sarah, whose head appeared to be in the clouds.

"Yes, Nali," Sarah said dutifully.

The teasing look in Sarah's eyes reminded Tima of Devlin. Yes, they are truly a good match. Tima's smile turned into a worried frown as she walked away with her sack of sweetgra.s.s braids. Thoughts of Redhawk reminded Tima of the difficulties she experienced on her own quest to become Chahta.

Tima shook her head and bid the negative thoughts to flee. She would teach Sakli all she would need to complete her entrance into the clan. It was up to the spirits and Sarah's strength to prevail.

For over a fortnight, Sarah worked alongside Tima. At night, she spent time with Hannah and rocked her to sleep. Then Sarah's lessons would start in earnest. Tima would tell Sarah stories, and within each story would be a lesson. Tima explained what it was like to be Chahta, to grow up within the Thunderbird clan. She told of their daily life and the beliefs that separated Chahta culture from other Indian tribes. Everything Tima had spent years living, she tried to teach to Sarah in a short amount of time.

Tima thought that at times she went too fast. She felt the urgency in her dreams. The spirits told her to go as fast as Sarah could manage. Just when Tima would think that she had pushed too much on her, Sarah would smile as if ready for more. Sarah's nature allowed her to grasp the concepts and beliefs with ease. If Sarah struggled with any of the traditions, she kept it to herself.

Happiness and labor often filled Sarah's days. She was accustomed to daily hard work for her family's survival. Her adult life on a cattle ranch had taught her that, but on the prairie, she had been alone. Here in the village, the men and women shared their respective areas of work. Groups of women gathered water, they tended crops of corn, beans, and squash, and they took turns watching the children. Oka kapa.s.sa, one of Tima's sisters, had never married, but she loved children. She kept a watchful eye on them and told stories or taught basket weaving. Even though different women led group child care at times, all the children ran to Oka kapa.s.sa for special hugs or stories.