Prarie Fire Part 19

Sarah didn't know how to respond to the reasoning. She could understand and agree with Oka kapa.s.sa's response to the change to the Chahtas' way of life. A heartbeat later, she realized what she was trying to say. Oka kapa.s.sa thought Sarah played a part in changing the clan ways. Sarah had no words to refute the subtle accusations until she remembered who she was.

I am Chahta...I have always been Chahta.

Sarah tried to shake off the feelings of anger and self-doubt. She knew that Oka kapa.s.sa said things like this to get a reaction from her. She remembered the words that Keeho had spoken to her during one of their discussions. He'd told Sarah that she held great power within her being. To allow others to make her feel emotions such as anger or jealousy only gave away her power needlessly.

Sarah bit back the words that lingered on her tongue. "What aspects of life do I need to be aware of to become a basket maker, Oka kapa.s.sa?"

Oka kapa.s.sa turned and looked down at Sarah. She didn't know what to expect after her biting remark. When she examined Sarah's face, she saw the will behind the patient demeanor. Oka kapa.s.sa could sense the war that Sarah had within herself. To feel and not to speak was a hard thing. Oka kapa.s.sa was unable to prevent the small nod. If Sarah was as intuitive as Tima gave her credit for, she would recognize her apology. Sarah looked up at Oka kapa.s.sa, awaiting a reply.

"It takes many winters to learn the skills of a master weaver," Oka kapa.s.sa finally said. The two began walking and Oka kapa.s.sa was teacher once more. "You must be accepting of Mother Earth and what she provides, as well as what she holds back. You need to be in tune with the seasons and when the mother will provide what you need. Lastly, you need to learn all you can of the plants and the trees a basket maker will use. Just as you are learning from me, it is important that you teach your daughter in the same manner. This way, the knowledge will never be lost or forgotten."

"There's so much to know. How arrogant I was in thinking I could become a basket weaver." Sarah shook her head, her earlier ire forgotten.

"You will do well at whatever you work hard to achieve, Sakli."

Sarah looked up in disbelief at Oka kapa.s.sa's words, as she turned and walked away.

An hour later, Sarah and Oka kapa.s.sa were beside a shallow creek. "It is not enough, Sakli, to know where to find the plants you will need. You must identify the plants, know what parts to use and how to prepare them. In this respect, gathering items for basket weaving is similar to harvesting plants to use in healing."

"What if you want part of your weave to be a particular color?"

"We can use materials from Mother Earth to create any color scheme that exists in nature. For instance, we use the sedge gra.s.s root for white areas and new shoots from the redbud tree for a reddish-brown color. If we soak dried bulrush root in wet ashes, we can use the dried gra.s.s for black weave. We create yellow with the wood of the hedge apple, red with sumac berries, blue using larkspur, and green with fronds of the evergreen."

"How do I make the dyes?" Sarah stripped the bark from the black willow limb in her lap.

"Different techniques for different materials. Walnuts, pecans, and hickory nut hulls can be boiled in water. Then the material is soaked in the water. Most wood is handled in the same manner."

The day went on in much the same way. Oka kapa.s.sa pointed out plants or areas of interest to Sarah as a basket maker. After some time, Sarah began equating the balance of plants and animals to life within the medicine wheel. Near the end of the day, Oka kapa.s.sa said little; she simply watched and listened as Sarah displayed a skill for recognizing plants and herbs. On occasion, Sarah appeared to identify plants and their uses that she could not remember having learned. It was apparent to Oka kapa.s.sa that Sarah possessed powerful medicine.

Sarah spent every day learning with Oka kapa.s.sa. She completed projects, large and small. She paid special attention to the art and magic of Oka kapa.s.sa's craft. It would be many years before Sarah's skill equaled her teacher's, but her innate talent shone through in her work.

Eventually, Sarah began her training with Tima and Keeho. It would take her many more years to become a seasoned medicine woman than it would to be an expert basket maker. Before she could begin, she would have to experience a healer's quest. Therefore, Keeho and Tima worked together to prepare Sarah for her next quest.

Sarah still spent her mornings and an occasional evening with Oka kapa.s.sa. Despite Oka kapa.s.sa's reserve and stubborn reluctance to accept her as a Chahta woman, Sarah was determined not to give up. One evening Sarah, Tima, and Oka kapa.s.sa shared one another's company outside around the fire. The warm summer breeze felt good on their heated skin. Many of the clan women avoided the heat of the day by saving their ch.o.r.es until the coolness of the evening.

Hannah appeared from within Tima's chuka, rubbing sleepy eyes. "I'm thirsty, Mama."

"You may have a drink of water, but then it's back inside."

Hannah walked over to a large water container that looked like a clay pot, but was a basket woven of sumac and thickly coated inside and out with hot pinon pitch. The coating waterproofed the basket, and with its birch bark lid, the container kept the water cool for hours.

Hannah took her drink, then sat beside her mother. "It's hot, Mama," she complained.

"Yes, I know, love. Come here." Hannah slipped into her mother's lap and Sarah wiped the girl's forehead with a cool cloth. "How does that feel?" She kissed the top of Hannah's head.

"Much, much, much better," Hannah said with a smile. Suddenly, the smile turned into a frown. "I miss Dev," she said, slumping against Sarah's chest.

"Me too, sweetheart, me too." Sarah hugged Hannah. "You know, Dev told me a story before she left, and it made me smile. I bet it would make you smile, too. Wanna hear it?"

"Uh-huh." Hannah snuggled into her mother's embrace.

Tima and Oka kapa.s.sa watched with a smile, exchanging a surprised glance as Sarah told Hannah the story of brother opossum and brother racc.o.o.n. By the time Sarah finished, Hannah had forgotten what had made her sad in the first place.

"What's this for, Mama?" Hannah ran a finger around the tiny leather pouch that Sarah wore around her neck.

"This is my ikhish bahta." Sarah explained what the medicine bag stood for and how Tima had shown her how to make it after her quest.

"Will I get one?"

"Yes, but not until you're older." Sarah went on to tell Hannah some of the things she could expect as a young woman growing up Chahta. Hannah seemed to accept the knowledge unconditionally. Sarah talked and rocked the girl in her arms until she was asleep. Sarah closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sky.

While mother and daughter shared their exchange, Oka kapa.s.sa watched them with a critical eye. She was taken aback by Sarah's words. In all of the time Oka kapa.s.sa had spent with Sarah, she had refused to accept Sarah as an acceptable mate for Redhawk. Oka kapa.s.sa had seen what had happened to Redhawk's mother. She had fallen in love with someone outside the clan, and because of that, her daughter had grown away from her people. It had only been through the spirits' graciousness that Redhawk came back to the clan.

Oka kapa.s.sa had been successful in removing the memories of Redhawk's true mother from her thoughts. While not victorious every day, she was able to put the pain in its proper place. Sarah's entrance into the clan had brought all the old emotions to the surface. Oka kapa.s.sa could see the past happening all over again. There was something different this time, though. Sarah was teaching her daughter, teaching her the clan way. Sometime during that evening, Oka kapa.s.sa felt her heart melt.

This was exactly what she had feared. That Redhawk's love for Sarah would not only take her from the clan, but that any family that came of such a relationship would never know the Chahta way. The curse would go on and the clan would take one step closer to extinction.

It was all changing before her eyes. With one small action, Sarah had dispelled the notion that the clan teachings would not be a part of her family's life. Oka kapa.s.sa realized that she had fallen into the trap against which she had tried to harden herself. Against her better judgment, or at least her will, Oka kapa.s.sa had let Sarah into her heart.

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. The summer sun rose into a sky streaked with magenta and blue. Tima walked into the chuka as Sarah finished dressing.

"The spirits have been good to you, Sakli."

"What do you mean?"

Tima indicated that Sarah should look outside and lifted the hide flap covering the chuka's entrance. Lying on the ground was a package. Sarah lifted the cloth-covered parcel up and looked around as though expecting to see someone. She examined the red cloth. Painted in black was the outline of a jumping fish. Tima had been right when she said the gift was for Sarah.

Sarah brought the package inside and unwrapped it. The people of the clan didn't believe in gift giving. They believed that all the gifts they would need would be given to them by the spirits. Even the Chahta knew, however, that there were times when only a gift could say what was in one's heart. That was the case as Sarah stared at the woven platter in her hands. It was the beautiful piece of work from Oka kapa.s.sa's chuka that Sarah had looked at with such longing. In fact, its spectacular design made the platter the envy of every woman in the village.

"I don't understand, Nali. What does it mean?" Sarah asked in confusion.

Tima chuckled as she shook her head. "You know things about the Chahta that make me wonder how you could have acquired such knowledge, but when it comes to people, you can be blind. I think you have just treated your first patient."

"My first patient?"

"Yes, my child. I believe you have healed my sister's heart."

Chapter 17.

They'd found Willie's body at the bottom of the ravine. Mercifully, his neck was broken and he died instantly. Devlin ordered the men to put all of the fallen cattle out of their misery, and she went back to camp.

Matt had become fond of Willie. Willie used to sit by the fire at night and teach him everything from knot tying to how to pull off a good practical joke. Devlin had wanted to break the news to Matt. He took it like a man, but she heard him crying once they all settled into their bedrolls. She reached out a hand to comfort him. That night was a long one for Devlin, and she waited for sleep that never came.

At sunrise, Devlin pa.s.sed the word that they would stay camped for another day to butcher the dead cattle and disperse the beef among the fifteen herds. They'd have to cut up the animals in the ravine and rope them up by hand. It would take the better part of the day, but the drovers would eat three-inch steaks that night. They ended up filling two wagons with the leftover meat. Devlin said they would give it to the first Indians they met or drop it by the nearest settlement. The hardest job of the morning was burying Willie Abbott.

Devlin pulled off her hat and nervously held it in her hands. Her fingers rubbed against the velvety soft brim as she fought for the words she needed to say. She was the trail boss, and along with all the accolades from a successful drive came the tasks that were not as pleasant.

"I'm not sure if Willie was a G.o.d-fearing man, but I reckon he was," Devlin began.

Most of the men gathered around a shallow grave that had been covered with flat pieces of sandstone. A couple of the men had carved Willie's name and the date onto one of the slabs as a grave marker. Another had fashioned a crude cross from two sticks tied together and stuck it into the ground. Matt stood next to Devlin and she spied him wiping his eyes.

"Willie was a real good man and he was a good rider. He didn't have any family to speak of, so I guess we'll just have to think that he went to his maker with a smile on his face." Devlin paused as a number of riders nodded in agreement. "I figure he's in a place now where the ponies never get tired, the trail's never dusty, and where G.o.d doesn't allow creatures as dumb as cattle. Good luck to ya, Willie." The riders nodded at Devlin's parting words to their friend. Most drovers admitted that they shared the same dream-where cattle were smart or there were none at all.

Devlin gave a few orders for the day and walked away from the gravesite. Hank found her high on a gra.s.sy knoll that overlooked the prairie, her back against a sandstone ledge.

"Hey, hope I didn't scare ya," Hank said.

"I heard you comin' ten minutes ago. You make more noise movin' through the brush than a rogue bull."

"Well, I figured with the mood you're in, it might keep me from gettin' shot." Hank sat beside her. "How ya feelin', Dev?"

"Lousy."

"Yeah, well, I reckon I'd be feelin' the same way, but look here. There wasn't a thing you could do to save Willie. It was a d.a.m.n miracle that you didn't go over that cliff right along with him."

"I know," Devlin said sadly.

"Oh. Then what are you lookin' so long in the tooth about?"

"It's nothing." She leaned back against the rocks with a sigh.

"Nothin', huh? You sure maybe you don't feel responsible for Willie 'cause if that's the case-"

Devlin sighed again, louder this time. "You're not going to leave me in peace about this, are you?"

"I figure that's what friends are for."

"What?" She opened one eye and glared at him. "To give you h.e.l.l until you cave and spill your guts?"

Hank grinned when he caught Devlin's amused look instead of anger. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

She sat up straighter and folded her long legs in front of her. "I was afraid last night, Hank."

"d.a.m.n right you were! That was a h.e.l.l of a drop-"

"I've never been afraid before."

Hank sat there and stared at his friend. "Ever?"

"I don't know, sure, when I was a kid, I guess. I only know that nothing ever caused me to feel the way I did last night, like I had so much to lose."

"You do."

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better."

"Well, h.e.l.lfire, Dev, you do, but that ain't cause to worry. If I had everything waitin' at home for me like you do, I'd be afraid of spoilin' it, too. That's just life, though. I go through most of my years afraid I'll never find something as special as you and Sarah have. When I do get it, I'm sure I'll spend the rest of my days fearin' that I'll lose it. I once heard you tell someone that only fools and children don't know fear. You thinking you're better'n the rest of us now?"

Hank pushed against her with one shoulder. Devlin wondered how he kept his constant good nature. "It's made me feel like I'm gonna second-guess myself. Like maybe I'll make a mistake 'cause I'm holdin' on too tight."

"That's 'cause you got a naturally doubting air about you. Instead of always thinkin' somethin' great is around the next corner, you always think there's disaster. I reckon you're thinking that you're afraid now because you got something worth living for all of a sudden."

"Pretty much. I never had it this good, I don't want to lose it."

"Then maybe you ought to start thinkin' of fear as your friend. There's a good side to it, ya know. Instead of lookin' at fear like it's gonna make you do something stupid, look at it like it just may save your hide. Us ordinary folk use fear to keep us from doing things that might get us killed. Maybe you could try to start looking at it that way, my friend."

"You ought to quit the cattle business and become a preacher." Devlin laughed. She understood what he was saying, and she'd only looked at it from one perspective.

"Nah, I like to sleep in on Sundays."

The two laughed and Hank was happy that he could help his friend. He suspected Devlin's mood might have something to do with missing Sarah, too.

"Well, I'm headin' back down. You comin'?"

"I think I'll sit for a spell longer. Might be the last time I get to sit and do nothing for a long while. Thanks, Hank."

Hank smiled before he turned and went down the hill, leaving Devlin alone with her thoughts. He ran into Matthew sitting under the shade of the chuck wagon. Matt had taken Willie's death perhaps harder than the drovers.

"Hey, partner," Hank said.

"Hey," Matt returned.

"Ya know, I just came from talkin' with Dev. She's up there." Hank motioned to the rocky path. "I think she was feelin' poorly over this whole thing. It might help if you were to find your way up there, maybe to cheer her up a bit."

"You think I could help?"

"Sure. Sometimes all ya need to make you feel better is somebody you know kinda bein' there for ya."

Hank smiled to himself as he watched Matt head off in Devlin's direction. He hoped he'd done the right thing. Those two were hurting, and he figured they might be of some help to each other.

Besides, he'd seen the look of pride that Devlin wore whenever someone praised Matthew's work. It nearly had knocked him over the first time he saw it. A few years back, he would never have guessed an outlaw like Devlin Brown could even have feelings. What he discovered was that after someone had been beaten down enough times, they buried their emotions where others couldn't get to them. It wasn't that Devlin didn't have feelings; she just got better than most at hiding them.

"Hey, Dev."

"Hey there, Matt. Why don't you sit a spell?" Devlin ran her fingers through her hair and replaced her hat as Matt sat beside her. "How're you holdin' up?"

"Okay, I guess. I reckon I'd feel a whole lot worse if it was you we buried."

"I have to admit, I'd be a tad upset about that, too." Devlin smiled. She knew what he was saying to her, but she wasn't sure how to respond. She understood that Matt looked up to her, but she wasn't certain what that meant. Devlin, Matt, and Hannah had yet to examine the boundaries of their relationship. She knew both kids liked her, but as what did they see her? What role did they see her as fulfilling in their lives?

Matt scratched his cheek and looked out onto the prairie. He liked being around Devlin, but sometimes he felt awkward, not sure she wanted to be a part of his life. At times, the two of them could talk easily, and other times, the words were spa.r.s.e. When his mom was around, Devlin was different. Devlin laughed and joked a lot more naturally. Then again, Matt was different with his mom around, too. She had a way of making him laugh.

Matthew thought of his father and how much he missed him. He and his dad could talk about anything. Matt wondered if Devlin had always been this quiet, even when she was his age. He wondered if she'd always worn men's clothes or if she had ever dressed as his mom did. He decided to give conversation a chance.