Prarie Fire Part 21

"Matt." Devlin tried to come up with a way to get out of the mess, but the cold water was making her sleepy. She tried to shake off the sluggishness. "Matt, I think we'd need a dozen men to pull this thing out."

The boy's eyes filled with tears. He looked at Devlin, then at the sh.o.r.eline. His face creased into a smile. "How about just one thing that's as strong as a dozen men?"

Devlin turned her head. There, by the riverbank, stood Anabelle. The longhorn remained impa.s.sive as ever as she stood near the sh.o.r.e, apparently disregarding the icy water swirling around her legs. For a moment, it looked to Devlin as if the animal was watching the entire scene.

"Are you crazy? That animal hates me, Matt. She'd let me drown just to be ornery."

"No, she can do it, Dev, I know she can." Matt blew on the fingers of each hand in an attempt to keep them warm. Then he once again grabbed the rope and the boulder blocking the tree's path. "We don't have another way."

Devlin looked back at Anabelle, who continued to absently watch as the river swept by. Cold and fatigue were taking their toll on Devlin. She figured that had to be the case since she was about to go along with the insane plan. "Okay, but you get back to sh.o.r.e first."

"Okay." Matt smiled and Devlin wished that she had as much confidence in Anabelle as he did.

Through Matt's shouts and pointing to Anabelle, he made his plan known. Devlin imagined that if the situation hadn't been so serious, Hank would have been lying on the ground laughing his a.s.s off. The men tossed another rope out to Matt, which he and Devlin managed to secure all the way around the tree. Then, once Matt was safe on dry land, they secured the ropes around Anabelle.

Devlin felt the log shift as the pressure built behind her. She didn't doubt that the cantankerous side of beef was going to stand there and let her flounder. Much to Devlin's amazement, Anabelle looked up at her and snorted. It was that loud grumbling noise the cow seemed to make around no one but Devlin. As everyone held his breath, Anabelle began a slow and steady ascent onto the riverbank.

The water spilled around Devlin, and she could barely expand her lungs enough to take in a breath. The pain in her ankle intensified as Anabelle laboriously tugged the tree to sh.o.r.e, along with Devlin's trapped body. They were nearly halfway there when Devlin felt the wood shuddering beneath her. A loud ripping sound filled her ears as she was dragged beneath the water's surface.

She felt her leg tug free and instantly bobbed to the surface. She strained to take in a gulp of air and saw pieces of the tree all around her. The rope around her chest was still attached to one section of the tree trunk. In one swift movement, the tree rolled forward and Devlin was pitched head first into the frigid water.

Devlin tried to fight her way to the surface, but the branch kept rolling back onto her. In the meantime, Matt and Hank cajoled Anabelle to move faster. When she was within ten feet of sh.o.r.e, the men held onto the ropes and ran into the water. Their combined strength was enough to move the tree off the pinned woman. When they pulled Devlin to sh.o.r.e, she was unconscious. Hank wasn't even sure she was breathing. He slapped her face and pressed the palms of his hands against her stomach in an attempt to force out the water she'd swallowed.

Devlin was still for what seemed like forever to the men standing by helplessly. Someone ran up with blankets and another rider brought Devlin's war bag filled with dry clothes. Finally, she coughed, expelling several mouthfuls of water.

Devlin wasn't quite herself yet. She knew she'd blacked out, but all she could think was how good the sun felt beating down on her skin. That's when she smelled the horrid odor and felt something warm and slimy rub against her face. Opening one eye, she saw Anabelle's tongue heading for her face.

"Son of a-" Devlin jerked her body up into a sitting position and pushed the longhorn's face away.

"She's just tryin' to say she's glad you're alive, boss." Hank laughed out of sheer relief.

The rest of the men laughed as Devlin pushed the cow away from her for a third time. "All right, all right! Thank you, Anabelle. Matt, get her off me."

Matt grinned and pulled the longhorn, who'd obviously had a change of heart regarding Devlin, back up the riverbank. No one knew why, but some suspected the cow understood that Devlin had saved the longhorn from becoming a meal for the Comanches.

"How are ya, Dev? Can ya get up?" Hank asked.

"I ain't that easy to kill," Devlin grumbled, and Hank gave her a hand up. "Ankle's a little sore," she said as she gingerly placed her weight on her foot. "But I'll live." She looked at all the smiling faces around her. "What the h.e.l.l are you all gawking at? Get to work! You think that herd's gonna find its own way to Abilene?"

The men realized that their boss was back and scrambled to find their mounts and their places tending the herd. "Never seen a luckier woman in all my born days," one of the riders muttered under his breath. Even with the sarcastic remarks, Devlin, as well as the others, knew what happened. One of their own came close, and it made every man there more conscious of his own mortality. In the blink of an eye, everything they were, everything they had, could be taken away. The outcome had been good this time. Next time, they might not be so lucky.

"And you." Devlin pointed to Matthew, who was returning after leading Anabelle to her position at the head of the herd.

Matt prepared himself for the lecture he was sure was next. He braced himself for Devlin's fury. She surprised him by grabbing the neck of his shirt and pulling him into a strong hug. Looking up from the embrace, Matt was taken aback by the affection.

"You listen to me about as well as your mother does." Devlin ruffled the boy's wet hair. "And I'm d.a.m.n glad."

"I saved your hat." With a smile, Matt offered up the crumpled Stetson.

"Oh, well, all is forgiven then." Devlin reshaped the wet felt and placed it on her head. "It's hard work breakin' in these things." She would have hated to lose this one since it had belonged to Sarah's father. Life was unpredictable on the plain, whether in a house, chuka, or on the trail. Becoming attached to material possessions only led to heartbreak. She flipped open her pocket watch and water dripped from its insides.

"Is it ruined?" Matt asked with concern.

"Nope, not to worry. I know a gunsmith in Abilene that can fix it up. You get some dry clothes on before you get back on your horse," Devlin said. "If we both go home with pneumonia, your mom'll never let us have this much fun again."

They both laughed as Hank watched them. He knew that Matt's change in att.i.tude was mostly due to the new relationship that he and Devlin shared. Matt had never been sullen or temperamental, but he was p.r.o.ne to quietness. Since Matt and Devlin had gone from friends to more of a parent-child relationship, Matt seemed more at ease. It was as if knowing his place in the pack helped him to relax.

Hank walked along with them and hoped that this bit of scariness would be the last, for a while anyway. He knew that was an improbability, but he wished for it the same.

Chapter 19.

Sarah couldn't concentrate on any of the prayers or ceremonies that Keeho had been teaching her over the last few weeks. She found herself drawn to Oka kapa.s.sa's chuka. Oka kapa.s.sa had gone out of her way in a seeming attempt to avoid Sarah. They hadn't spoken, with the exception of an occasional friendly greeting, since Sarah found Oka kapa.s.sa's gift outside the chuka. Sarah thought about giving in to Oka kapa.s.sa's obvious wishes, but Sarah's clan name was Sakli for a reason. The salmon that constantly swims upstream against the flow, never giving up until it reaches its destination, fit Sarah's personality.

One afternoon, Sarah sat along the edge of the prairie. She looked into the valley below and watched the bison move in huge herds. She thought about Oka kapa.s.sa and her change of heart. She wondered why Oka kapa.s.sa cared so much for Devlin. If Devlin had been so special to the woman, how was it that Tima was Devlin's adopted mother? Sarah knew that Chahta law did not preclude single women from adopting children since uncles, not the father, provided much of the instruction for warriors. Suddenly, a thought popped into Sarah's head. How could she have been so blind, and why hadn't Devlin told her? The resemblance was amazing. Of course, Sarah being Sarah, she had to know the truth.

"May I speak with you, Oka kapa.s.sa?" Sarah went to the source.

"You are always welcome in my chuka, Sakli. What is it that you wish to speak of?" Oka kapa.s.sa behaved as though there had never been any animosity between them. She sat on the floor sorting dried roots, barks, and gra.s.ses into separate bundles for future use.

Once Sarah settled herself beside Oka kapa.s.sa, she blurted out the words that had been on her mind for days. "You're Redhawk's mother, aren't you? I don't mean like Tima, I mean her real mother."

Oka kapa.s.sa didn't look surprised in the least, which caused Sarah to believe she had hit the mark. It was Sarah, however, who was about to be surprised.

"No, Sakli." Oka kapa.s.sa smiled at her. "I am not Redhawk's mother, but you are not far from the truth."

"I was sure, I mean...I didn't mean to...I just thought..." Sarah stammered. "Forgive me," she said in embarra.s.sment.

"Sakli, there is nothing to forgive. As I said, you came very close. Redhawk's mother, the woman who gave birth to Redhawk, was my sister. Okshakla was my twin sister. Do you know what my name means, Sakli?"

"Cool water."

"Correct. My sister's name, Okshakla, meant Deep Water. I was quiet and reserved. Okshakla was quiet, as well, but when she did speak, it was always something profound. We grew up to fit our names."

All of Oka kapa.s.sa's words and actions now made sense to Sarah. She understood each harsh word she had uttered. The physical similarities between Devlin and Oka kapa.s.sa made sense also. "I'm not sure I understand. Why is Tima Redhawk's adopted mother? I would have thought, given the love that I hear in your voice for your sister, that-"

"My pain was very great when my sister left the clan, Sakli. I knew that she was very much in love, but I felt that no good would come from her giving up her people. When Redhawk returned to us and told us of her parents' deaths, I grew angry. So angry that I refused my birthright, refused to adopt Redhawk as my own. I turned my back on the child because I thought of her as part of the reason my sister had died." Oka kapa.s.sa paused to wipe away the tears that ran in a steady stream down her cheeks. "I blamed my beloved sister's death on her leaving the clan. I blamed her husband for allowing her to give up who she was."

"So that's why you disliked me so much," Sarah said in a whisper. It was clear to Sarah that Oka kapa.s.sa saw her relationship with Devlin as history repeating itself. "You only saw me as someone who Redhawk would give up her people for."

Oka kapa.s.sa nodded. "I was wrong. I was wrong back then, and I was wrong to have treated you so. It is not the Chahta way. Forgive me, Sakli." She hung her head in shame.

Sarah placed one hand on Oka kapa.s.sa's shoulder, unsure how to take away the pain that had been a part of Oka kapa.s.sa's existence for so long. Sarah said the only words that she might have wished to hear under similar circ.u.mstances. "There is nothing to forgive, akana."

The word akana, which Sarah chose carefully, added much more to the comforting statement. To accept someone as a friend was done often, but to accept someone as akana, or "my friend," was like saying they were as close as family. Sarah did not yet realize that every day she spent in the clan village caused her family to grow a little larger.

Sarah had spent the early morning helping the elder women of the clan as they taught the younger women and girls how to prepare nita nipi itaba nusi, acorns and bear meat. The dish was one that the Chahta traditionally cooked in a large pot in a central location of the village. Sarah received nods from the women for her foresight in bringing one of her iron pots to the camp.

It was unusual for the hunters to come across a fat bear this time of year. In the heat of summer, the men usually had to be happy with squirrels and rabbits as an addition to their diet of buffalo meat. Because of its fatty flesh, they needed to cook the bear meat right away. They reserved a small portion to cut into strips and dry to use later for making pemmican. The clan had been provided with the means to have their favorite feast meal on the eve of a village celebration. The elders looked on this occurrence as a favorable sign from the spirits. It only served to remind Sarah that the clan expected so much from her. It was the following day's start of her healer's quest that they celebrated.

Most of the acorns in the woods around the village, while plentiful, were bitter to the point of being inedible. One of the older women, Shinkak, explained to Sarah how they would remove the bitterness. "You can tell the difference because white oaks have rounded leaves and the black oaks have pointed leaves. The white oak acorns are less bitter. We must be fair to our four-footed brothers, however. Squirrels hunt for the white oak acorns, too. We aren't the only one of Hashtahli's creations who do not care for bitter nuts. Black oak acorns will make you pucker up like when you take a bite from an unripe persimmon." She laughed along with the young women when she puckered her lips as an example. "We must leach them to remove the sharp, bitter taste."

The youngest girls spent the morning gathering hickory sticks for the fire. The women and girls cleaned off a spot on top of a large, flat piece of sandstone. They made a fire with the hickory wood, and when it had burned down, they gathered the ashes. The women spent some time sh.e.l.ling and picking off the red skin from the acorns. They then split them into halves and placed the pieces into a large, loosely woven basket. Shinkak directed them to place a second basket containing the hickory ashes above the basket holding the peeled acorns.

Finally, they dripped water slowly through the basket of hickory ashes and down into the basket of acorns. The combination of the water and hickory ashes created a mild form of lye, which would remove the bitter taste from the acorns. Sarah helped to wash off the acorns and placed them in the iron pot. Lastly, they added chunks of bear meat and some of the pungent wild garlic that grew in the forests around the village. The stew boiled until the meat and the acorns were tender.

Now Sarah and Tima sat outside of the healer's chuka under a lean-to made of brush. The shelter provided necessary shade on hot summer days such as these. As the end of summer approached, many households were slow-drying meat over hickory wood fires, as well as laying in stores of other cold weather supplies. Sarah breathed in the wonderful aroma of the cooking stew, which had brought a number of people to the area of the cook pot.

It was early yet for the clan to harvest many of the nuts from the trees, but some were gathered green. Hickory, black walnuts, and pecans were abundant in the nearby forests. Tima taught Sarah the Chahta way of storing the nuts so that worms and insects would not infest them. They smoked the nuts over a hickory fire, then gathered them into cl.u.s.ters. Tima covered each cl.u.s.ter of nuts with mud, which when dried served as a hard outer sh.e.l.l for the fruit inside. The Chahta learned this technique from watching the tekhanto, the mud dauber. The insects placed food for the next season's hatchlings inside sealed mud containers. Even years later, the Chahta could crack or soak open the mud b.a.l.l.s to reveal crisp, smoked nuts inside.

As they worked, Tima explained some aspects of Sarah's upcoming quest. "When you go on a quest," Tima said, "you are searching for something. We may quest many times during our lives, but always it is because we are seeking answers. The first quest a Chahta youth experiences is the same one that you underwent. Its purpose was twofold. First, for acceptance to the clan, and secondly, to receive the power animal that will always be with you. Tomorrow, you undertake a quest that few Chahta go on. It is called the healer's quest."

Sarah had heard most of this before, but she still listened intently to Tima's words.

"You will not stay as long as you did before. It is forbidden to stay more than four days without food and water. I have known of holy ones to go on quests for nearly a fortnight, but you are far away yet from communicating that closely with the spirit world. On the fourth day, if you do not receive your guide, you must return to the village. Do you understand that, Sakli?"

Sarah nodded. She knew why Tima stressed that. Tima was aware of Sarah's stubborn streak. Tima must have suspected that her first willful thoughts would be to do it her way.

"Women of the clan go on many quests during their lives just as men do, searching for truths. They will ask answers to many questions. The questions we ask in life will change as we grow older and our focus broadens. Young women sometimes are narrow in their searching. Perhaps they wish for wisdom, a husband, or children. Some look for the path they are to follow. Older women become selfless in their quests and oftentimes search for a.s.sistance for the ones they love most. The elder women of the clan become introspective with age. They seek answers to who they are and where they fit within the Creator's world. It is the Chahta way, however, to forbid women to enter into vision quests. They may quest for other reasons but not to seek visions."

"But Redhawk-"

"Redhawk is looked on as a warrior to the clan. The laws for the Chahta female do not apply to her."

"But won't I see visions on every quest?" Sarah wondered if she should tell Tima about the black-and-white warrior she'd met during her first quest.

"Not at all," Tima said. "Some quests are a way to separate us from the busy day-to-day activities that encompa.s.s our lives. You will learn, Sakli, it is not always necessary to go to a sacred place to obtain wisdom from the spirits. Many times, we find that the answers we sought during a quest were inside of us all along."

"I understand that, Tima, but what happens if I do experience a vision while on a quest? Am I supposed to keep quiet about it?"

Tima smiled. Sometimes Sarah emitted an aura as powerful as the Old Ones. Other times, Sarah exuded the innocence of a child. Tima felt blessed to teach her way to one so open to the world around her. "In future generations, I believe many of our ways will change, Sakli. For now, we must let the men of the clan harbor their small insecurities."

"I don't understand them most of the time, Nali. I thought maybe Chahta men were different."

"In many ways, they are, but in small ways, all human beings are the same. I am a young woman by clan standards, but still, I have seen much. I have met white men and women who had the essence of the Chahta Okla in their hearts. I have also known people of the clan who acted with the same petty fears and jealousies as the white man. There is no one clan better in Hashtahli's eyes. He sees each of us individually, and when it is time for us to go to the sacred place, he will bless each of us according to the way we led our lives as earth walkers."

"Nali, I've heard the tales of how Hashtahli created the Chahta, but the stories say nothing of men being created separately from women. The tales of the Creator that the white men worship, at least the men I grew up with, tell of the Creator making man first, then woman. They use this concept to teach women that they're less than men."

Tima chuckled at the thought. "I will tell you the way I see the difference in beliefs. When I was very young, we made the long journey from our homeland to where we live now. A white aba anumpuli spoke with my father. I remember that my mother was beside Kontonalah, and some of my sisters were listening. My sister Okshakla was older than I, and she sat beside the white soldier who would become Redhawk's father. His name was John Devlin Brown."

Sarah smiled. She had often wondered how Devlin had received such a name.

"The missionary told us how his G.o.d had created man, then created woman from a piece of the man's body. I don't believe my mother was amused with the man's tale. Artamicha was a woman of some status within the clan. Her mother's clan had all been powerful women and had married powerful warriors. Kontonalah received much of his status by marrying Artamicha."

Tima paused, and from the expression on her face, Sarah was aware that Tima was remembering a pleasant time in her life.

"The white missionary only spoke to the men in our family. He looked at my father and John Devlin and asked them if they were glad that the Creator remembered to create a woman as an afterthought. John Devlin spoke up first. He said he was very glad. He asked the missionary who would cook, clean, and give him children if not for woman. My father said he too was glad. He asked the missionary who he would hunt for. Who would he go to war to protect? Who would he build a chuka for? Who would he dance for during harvest? I remember my mother seemed very pleased with my father's answer."

Sarah nodded in understanding. "John Devlin felt the loss of a woman because of what she could do for him. Kontonalah felt it as though his existence revolved around what he would do for her."

Tima nodded, still smiling. "We have some beliefs simply because that is all we know." Her smile grew larger. "John Devlin changed much before he married Okshakla. Now let us speak more of your quest tomorrow."

A healer's quest was the last step in preparing Sarah for the years she would spend studying to become Alikchi. She would return to the high cliffs that she had visited before and would go without food and water until her spirit guide accepted her into the ways of the medicine woman. A healer's quest was specific in that Sarah would wait for one of the thirteen original clan mothers to offer to become her ikhananchi, or teacher.

"Will I be okay if I have to stay there for four days without food and water?" Sarah asked.

"It will be difficult," Tima said, "but what good is victory that is not earned?"

Sarah understood the truth in those words. She bowed her head and stared at her hands as they rested in her lap. She had fought her entire life to live the kind of life that she wanted, not what others wanted or expected of her. It had never been easy, but the rewards had been great.

"I hope we are not pushing you, Sakli, going too fast." Tima wondered if Sarah's silence meant she was feeling overwhelmed. "I prepared for a full year before my healing quest. I worry that I have not done enough to prepare you."

"Not so, Nali. I've understood the urgency of my training from the start. I know it will take me many years to learn all I need to know, whether it's as a basket maker or a medicine woman. I also know that if I hadn't agreed to begin now, we might never have known about the fire or the damage the cattlemen's fences would do. Since the beginning, though, I've felt a rightness about it all. You've been a teacher, mother, and a friend to me. These gifts give me strength."

After the celebration feast, Sarah went inside the prayer lodge to take part in a purification ceremony before starting her quest. She slept for a few hours, which felt more like minutes, in Tima's chuka. Even if she'd had the whole night to sleep and let go, she wouldn't have been able to. Her restless mind couldn't relax its nervous wandering.

Sarah bathed as the sun rose and donned the same leathers she had worn during her previous quest. Keeho and Tima met Sarah and walked with her to the edge of the forest. They paused before entering the woods, and Keeho drew an object from his pack.

"Sakli, I wish there were words I could speak, a spell I could conjure to make this journey easier for you. It matters not whether the mothers select you. Remember that I have adopted you to my hearth, and I will be proud of you no matter what. To have family is everything, and the relationship that we now share binds us as tightly as blood." Keeho placed the object in Sarah's hands. "This knife belonged to my father. I have rebound the handle and sharpened the blade many times over the winters. I give it to you now to carry with you and to remind you that my bloodline will continue through you. It was because of the spirits that you became the daughter of my hearth. It is because of who you are that you became the daughter of my heart."

Sarah didn't know what to say to Keeho. His heartfelt emotion surprised her. She had grown much closer to him in the past weeks. They studied and prayed together, and although Sarah felt the same way about her adopted father, she didn't dare speak the words.

Keeho, in the meantime, wasn't accustomed to such displays of emotion. Sarah's silence embarra.s.sed him and he turned to leave. "I go," he said quickly.

"Keeho," Sarah called out. She held him back with one hand on his arm. "I will always feel honored to be at your iksita."

Keeho smiled, which was something he rarely did. He squeezed Sarah's hand and nodded in Tima's direction. He walked back toward the village, leaving the women to finish the journey to the cliffs by themselves.

Sarah helped Tima to make a small camp at the bottom of the large rocks. Tima would stay there until Sarah returned. Tima's job as Sarah's mentor was to pray and offer spiritual strength during the time Sarah was engaged in her quest. Tima and Sarah finally sat beside each other and offered up smoke from Tima's pipe. Sarah presented Tima with a pouch of tobacco tucked inside a cane basket. The basket was far from perfect, but it had been Sarah's first creation. The misshapen object reminded Sarah of the gifts Hannah had given her on occasion.

Tima pulled a flute from her pack of supplies and played a tune. Sarah listened in wonder. "You never told me that you played the flute."

"You never asked," Tima said. "A good healer demonstrates the need to create. I learned to play the flute from my grandmother. That is why I sent you to Oka kapa.s.sa to learn basket weaving."

Sarah nodded, but then her brows came together in a frown. "After all I put up with from Oka kapa.s.sa, do you mean to tell me that I could have learned the flute instead of basket making?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you say that then?" Sarah's voice rose until she saw Tima's knowing smile. "I know, I know. Because I didn't ask," she said wryly.

"No, Sakli, because we already have a flute player in our family. We have no one who makes good baskets, though."

Tima returned to her music after the casual statement. Sarah opened her mouth to offer a retort but stopped before she could utter a word. She could see Tima's eyes crinkled up at the corners as she held back her smile. Sarah understood that Tima was teasing and realized that it was as close as she would ever come to joking with Tima.