Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e galloped along side Chief Aenohe and the other Cheyenne braves. His blonde
hair had grown quite long and he wore the headband that Mapiya had given him to
keep it in place. He carried his rifle, instead of the bow and arrows given to
him by his adopted father. He found
that he could use this better to protect.
Chief Aenohe did not see anything wrong with it as a lot of the young
men carried rifles as well as the standard Cheyenne weapons of bow, arrow and
tomahawk. Although his shoulder and
back twinged some, it was better under the care of Mapiya. The headaches still came and went, but they
grew lesser and lesser in time. His
dreams though still haunted him at night, but they seem to disappear with the
morning.
Most of the
braves that were in the war party were from the different military societies of
the Cheyenne. Emo'ôhtavo vo’e saw men from the Wolf, Fox, Bull and Bowstring
societies. But the group that impressed
him the most was the braves of the Dog Men Society. The Dog Soldiers, as the white man named them, were the most
distinguished of the societies due to the amount of members from the Cheyenne
nation. At least half of any Cheyenne
tribe consisted of Dog Men Society.
They were known for their fierceness and their brave deeds of counting
coup. They controlled the nation by
their sheer numbers. Chief Aenohe was a
member of the society. Four of the
bravest Dog men were chosen to defend the people against enemy raids in a
certain way for yearlong terms. These
four men wore the a sash of tanned skin eight to ten feet long and five or six
inches wide, with a lengthwise slit cut at the head end. These were called
"dog-strings" or "dog-ropes." The two bravest had their
sash decorated with yellow and red, while the other two wore plain sashes. The sashes were worn over the right shoulder
and under the left and trailed behind on the ground.
When there
was a battle that was not going well for the Cheyenne, these men had to drive
stakes into the ground, which tied them to the spot, guarding the rear of the
retreating Cheyenne until they were safely away. It was expected that these men would die in battle first, rather
than pull up the pins and retreat. The
only way they would be relieved if another Cheyenne sharply ordered them away
as if they were speaking to a dog. He
was then free of his burden to die and could retreat with the others.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo’e felt as if he was part of one of the society men, then he knew the Chief
Aenohe could not have any objection to him taking Mapiya as his wife. It was a definite option. He would have to find out more about the Dog
Men and their ways.
The Cheyenne
war party rode to an area not far from the Box Canyon area. When they got close enough to the where
Chief Aenohe was leading them, he motioned for them to dismount. They would go on foot from here on. The so-called enemy that he would not
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e about would definitely be able to hear their horses and be
forewarned of their coming.
As they
walked until they reached a hillside and then Chief Aenohe gave them to signal
crawl on their bellies up the hill.
This was so that the enemy would not smell their presence on the wind.
As they
reached the top of the hillside, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e and the band of Cheyenne
looked down into the valley below. They
saw a group of Indians camped below.
They had about twenty horses, some looked wild, and some were tame. Chief Aenohe motioned everyone back down the
hillside. They needed to form a plan of
attack.
When they got
back to their horses, they were allowed to speak. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e asked, “My
father, who are these people?”
Chief Aenohe
turned to Emo'ôhtavo vo'e and replied, “They are Pawnee. They are enemy to the Cheyenne. When they can, they steal our horses, our
women, kill our men. They are horse
thieves. We will take their horses, but
it will not be easy. Not like white
men. Are you prepared to do what is
needed, my son?”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e stood straight and proud. He had
to prove to these people that he was one of them. “I will do what is necessary
for the people,” he replied.
“Heehe'e,”
was all that Chief Aenohe said. There
would be no more discussion on the subject.
It was determined by Chief Aenohe that Emo'ôhtavo vo'e knew his duty to
his people and did not need to be told over and over again.
Chief Aenohe
mounted and motioned for his men to do the same. “We will ride quickly and strike for the horses. We will not fight unless we are forced
to. We do not kill so easily as the
white man, but we will return victorious this day or die.” All the men, including Emo'ôhtavo vo'e,
whooped and yelled at the prospect of dying in battle. Chief Aenohe rode full speed at the Pawnee
camp and his men followed yelling as they did.
When they got
into the camp, the Pawnee were ready for them.
They had heard their yells and screams of victory or death. The Cheyenne rode through the camp, heading
for the group of horses fettered to the far side. The Pawnees knew what the Cheyenne wanted and would not give them
up without a fight. The Cheyenne knew
that they would not leave without which they had come for. Both were strong and both believed they were
righteous. It would be a matter of time
to determine which would be victorious in the end.
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e watched as one of the Cheyenne warriors went down under a
Pawnee arrow. He then watched as that
Pawnee then went down under bullet of another Cheyenne brave. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e
rode over to where the horses were and dismounted trying to untie them for
moving. As he did, he did not see the
Pawnee who was coming at a run to intercept him. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e was about to
untie another horse from the tethered group when a silent warning came into his
thoughts. He quickly turned around and
fired once with his rifle at the running Pawnee. The Pawnee fell dead to the ground, a bullet put neatly into his
chest. Chief Aenohe was watching the scene from his commanding position. He nodded at Emo'ôhtavo vo'e with pride
bursting from his heart. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e nodded back and went quickly back to
getting the horses gathered. Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e knew he should feel glad that he had killed an enemy of the people, but he
did not. All he felt was disgust at
what he did. He pushed those feelings
deep within his body and continued on with his responsibility. What Emo'ôhtavo vo'e nor the other Cheyenne
and Pawnee men who were fighting did not know was that their actions were being
watched from another hillside on the other side. Those eyes quietly took in the event as it unfolded.
When Vin and
Josiah had spotted the Pawnee camp, they had quickly lowered themselves onto
their bellies. Once settled on the ground,
and they seemed contented that they were not seen by the occupants below, Vin
pulled out his spyglass to get a better look at the camp.
“Yep. They’re Pawnee.”
“Not
Cheyenne?”
“Nope. Definitely Pawnee. Probably on their way from a raiding party of sorts. They got a bunch of horses down there.”
“Do ya think
they might know where Chris is?”
“I doubt
that, Josiah. Pawnee and Cheyenne are
mortal enemies. They’ve been fightin’
each other so long, I think they forgot what the fightin’ was all about in the
first place. They wouldn’a have any
knowledge of the goings on in a Cheyenne camp.”
“So what do
ya think we should do?” Josiah was
getting anxious. He wanted to get back
to the others. They had been travelling
for hours, looking for signs of what, he did not know. Only Vin knew.
“Listen as
soon as . . .”
Vin had
stopped speaking. Josiah took this as
not a good sign.
“What is it?”
Josiah asked, trying to see without the aid of the spyglass what had caught
Vin’s attention.
“There’s some
Cheyenne comin’ in the camp and they’re comin’ in fast. I say it’s a war party and they ‘bout ta
rile up the Pawnees some.”
“How many?”
“I’d say
‘bout twenty. They seem ta be . . . Oh,
shit!”
“Vin, what is
it?”
“I cain’t
believe it!”
“Vin, “ said Josiah
trying to keep calm. “If ya don’t
answer me soon, I’m going ta get very unpleasant.”
“Here,” he
said handing Josiah the spyglass. “Take
a look for yerself.”
Josiah took
the spyglass from Vin’s shaking hands and looked. What he saw he still could not believe.
Among the red
skinned Cheyenne, there was a white man.
Tall and lean, with shoulder-length blonde hair streaming behind him as
he rode a white horse. He was whooping
and yelling, brandishing his rifle as the other Cheyenne. Josiah looked closer at the image that
appeared in the spyglass and immediately he knew it was Chris. Chris Larabee dressed like an Indian and
acting like one too.
“Of all
that’s holy, . . .”
“I know. That’s what I said.”
Josiah then
handed the spyglass back to Vin. Vin
then quickly focused the spyglass back on to the white Cheyenne. He watched him as he rode towards the
horses. He knew that Chris was probably
chosen to get the horses since he was new to the tribe and needed to prove
himself. As he watched him untie each
of the horses from the main tether, Vin saw a Pawnee coming at full speed at
Chris. He knew Chris did not see the
Pawnee since his back was turned and he suddenly felt very afraid for his
friend.
He thought,
“Chris, watch ya back, Pard!” As he
did, he saw Chris turn quickly around and fire his rifle into the chest of the
running Pawnee. The Pawnee dropped dead
in his tracks. Vin mouth dropped in
amazement. Had Chris heard him? Was their connection still there? It gave him hope. Hope that Chris Larabee was still there under all that war paint,
buckskin and hair. Vin then handed the spyglass back to Josiah. Josiah watched as Chris checked the dead
Pawnee and then went back to untying the horses.
“Well, at
least he didn’t scalp ‘im,” stated Josiah trying to lighten up the mood.
“It ain’t
funny, Josiah,” replied Vin softly. He
was trying to think about what just happened.
“So,
Vin. What do we do?” Josiah’s question
brought Vin out of his reverie.
“Don’t
rightly know, Josiah. But we gotta tell
the others what we found.” And also
tell them that they were wrong about Chris not being alive.
“But how are
we goin’ ta get ‘im away from the Cheyenne?
It don’t look good and it don’t look like he’s goin’ ta come along
peaceful like.”
“We’ll come
up with somethin’, Josiah. Don’t
worry.”
“Easy for you
ta say, Brother. Easy for you ta say,”
said Josiah, looking up to the sky.
“Come on.
Let’s get back ta the others.”
He and Josiah then slowly inched their way back down the hillside to
their horses.
The fight was
over long before it began. The Cheyenne
outnumbered the Pawnee and most of them lay dead or dying. The Cheyenne did not get away unscathed
either. They had lost two of their men
and four were badly wounded. The two
who had died, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e knew them as Stands Above and Tallman. They had families, wives and children who
would mourn them for many moons.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e himself had only receive a slight wound to his already healing
shoulder. It had come while he was herding
the horses towards the two waiting Cheyenne scouts. A Pawnee, which he did not see to the last minute, had shot an
arrow that had only barely missed the top of his shoulder. It did not imbed itself into the flesh, but
a long jagged cut now ran freely with blood. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e ignored it. It was a badge of honor to be wounded during
a war party raid.
The Cheyenne,
gathered the horses, their dead and their wounded and mounted up for home.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e was the last to follow, peering over his shoulder at the hillside on the
farther side. He had felt something
from there. He did not know what it
was, but something had touched him. He
felt it when the warning came about the Pawnee. It was a strange feeling.
He would have to talk to the Cheyenne medicine man, Ma'emestahke when
they got back to camp. He was a wise
man and would know what it meant. He
then urged his horse to follow the war party back home to their victory dinner
and for him, back to Mapiya.
***********************************************************************************************************
J.D. was on
watch for the camp. He had seen neither
hide nor hair of anything living since Vin and Josiah had left. It gave him the shivers to think how close
they were to Cheyenne country. Without
Vin to negotiate for them, they were sitting ducks out here. He wondered if Vin found any sign of Chris
or if they ever would. He did not want
to believe that his hero was gone. He
had admired Chris from the first day he saw him and Vin beat down a bunch of
yahoos who wanted to lynch Nathan. That
was the grandest thing he had ever seen, although Buck told him later that he
thought he was easily impressed. He
could not imagine riding with only six, instead of their usual seven.
J.D. saw them
as they came riding towards the camp as if the devil was on their heels. “Vin and Josiah, coming in fast!” he yelled
back to the camp. As he did, Vin and
Josiah came galloping into the camp with dust flying behind them. Once in the camp, they quickly dismounted
their horses and the others came running over.
“What
happened?” asked Nathan, a sense of urgency gripping his heart. “Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Nah,
Nathan. We’re fine,” replied Vin. “We need to talk,” and he started walking
over the campfire leaving J.D. to take his and Josiah’s horses’ reins.
Once Vin and
Josiah had settled by the fire, J.D. had finished unsaddling the horses and
handed both of the tired men some of Ezra’s bitter brew. “Ya look tired.”
“We are J.D.,”
said Josiah, taking a sip of the coffee.
“We been ridin’ hard since we found . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence
and then turned slowly towards Vin.
“We found
Chris,” was the tracker’s simple statement.
The others
looked at them in dumfounded. Then they
all started talking at once.
“What? Where
is he, Vin?” asked Buck.
“Did ya see
‘im? Is he alright?” came Nathan’s question.
“How far is
he from our vicinity, Mr. Tanner?” asked Ezra.
“What was he
doin’?” questioned J.D.
Josiah held
his hand up for silence. They all
stopped talking as fast as they had started.
“Listen, Vin
and I will tell ya if y’all just calm down.
Now why don’t cha all just sit down and we cin talk.”
Although
still biting at the bit to find out what happened, the others nodded and took
their places around the fire.
“Why don’t
cha tell ‘im what we saw, Vin,” recommended Josiah. He knew it should come from Vin since he was the one who saw him
first.
Vin brought
his eyes up and looked at them. He knew
that he owed it to these men, Chris’ men, to let them know the fate of their
leader, so he started his tale, starting with how he and Josiah had discovered
the Pawnees and ending with Chris riding off with the victorious Cheyenne.
“I cannot
believe it. Our illustrious leader acting
and dressing like a heathen.”
“Ezra, he
don’t know who he is right now,” voiced Nathan, eyeing him angrily.
“But will he
know us, Nathan?” inquired Buck. He was
concern that his best friend was gone and he did not know what was in his
place.
“Don’t know,
Buck. Anythin’ is possible. He might see us and then everythin’ might
come back ta ‘im. Then again, he might
not. I have seen cases in the war where
a man lost his memory and got it back when he recognized someone or somethin’
familiar.”
“How many of
these types of cases have you witnessed that have re-established their memory
successfully, Mr. Jackson?”
“’Bout five.”
“And, how
many did not, my good healer?”
Nathan
hesitated. “’Bout twenty,” answered
Nathan despondently.
“That’s what I
thought.”
“Shut up,
Ezra!” yelled Buck. “Just shut up! This is Chris that we are talkin’
‘bout. Not some stranger!”
Ezra could
see how this was ravaging the big man’s heart.
Although the others did not think that he cared, even he had come to
feel a sort of kinsmanship to their leader, albeit, it was troublesome one at
times.
“Mr.
Wilmington, I am only trying to look at all our options.”
“I know,
Ezra. But we cain’t just write Chris
off.” Buck wanted his friend back, but
he was starting to doubt if he really did have a friend left to bring
back. It was what had set him off with
Ezra in the first place. Ezra was only
thinking what he was thinking himself.
“Buck’s
right, Ezra. Chris is still one of our
own,” jumped in J.D.
“I just hope
you are right, Mr. Dunne. I just hope
you are right,” was all Ezra said for the moment. He knew they had their work
cut out for them.
“So, Vin
what’s the plan?” asked J.D. excited about the prospect of finding Chris and
meeting some real Cheyenne natives.
Vin had
stayed out of the conversation. He was busy dealing with his own feelings
concerning what he saw. Chris Larabee
was the only man Vin had trusted in a long while. He understood when he needed space and made no claims on
him. Their silent connection had lasted
through many a fight during their tenure as peacekeepers. But Chris was more than that. He was the brother that Vin never had and
could not accept losing that.
“I think I
should go to the Cheyenne camp alone.”
“Are ya
crazy?! What makes ya think ya have any
chance with those Cheyenne?”
“Buck. I’ve lived with their kind. I understand ‘em. If anyone has a chance of surviving this, it’s me.”
“I think your
plan is foolhardy, Mr. Tanner. I doubt
if these natives will understand you’re wanting to take the honorable Mr.
Larabee from them, if what you tell me is true.”
“Ezra, I
think there’s a piece of what was Chris Larabee still in there. A small piece, but still a piece. And as long as there is, I ain’t changin’ my
mind,” replied Vin resolutely.
“But what if
he don’t know who ya are, Vin? Then
what ya goin’ ta do?” Nathan was worried that they might loose the tracker too.
“Well, then
I’ll let ‘im go,” Vin stated simply.
“Just like
that? And ya expect us ta believe
that?”
“Buck, what
else cin I do. Iffen Chris don’t know
who I am then there’s nothin’ that I cin say to convince ‘im.”
“So, am I to
believe that you have resolve yourself into attempting this demented plan?”
“Ezra, ya cin
believe what ya want. It’s what I plan
ta do.”
“Ya nothin’
but a bull-headed, sorry-ass, son of a b. . .” started Buck.
“Buck, calm
down now,” interrupted Nathan. “Vin is
partly right.”
They all
turned to stare at Nathan as if he lost his mind like Vin.
“Listen, Vin is
the only one who gonna be able to deal with the Cheyenne. I agree with ‘im there. What I don’t agree with ‘im is goin’ alone.”
“But Nathan,
. . .”
“Don’t but
Nathan me, Vin Tanner.” Vin looked at
Nathan and knew when he called him by his first and last names that he was in
deep trouble with the black healer.
“Ya listen ta
me, Vin Tanner. Iffen Chris is there,
we all go. No one goes alone on this
one, Vin Tanner. Chris is not just
someone special ta ya. He’s special
t’all of us. He done saved my life and
the life of the ones I love too many times for me not ta be a part of
this. And I am sure that the others
feel the same,” said Nathan, looking at each of the five men that sat around
the fire. As he did, each man bowed his
head in agreement, including Vin.
“Alright,
Nathan. Ya win. But ya got ta do what I say, otherwise it
won’t be just Chris that we’re goin’ ta be worried ‘bout, if ya get my
meanin’.” All five agreed and not one of them thought to do otherwise.
“So what’s
the plan, Vin,” came J.D.’s question again.
“Listen up,
then,” started Vin, as the others gathered closer around him. “This is what we goin’ do. . .”
When
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e and the other Cheyenne warriors had returned to the camp, they
found many of the people waiting for them at the edge of the campsite. Many had come to see whether their men were
victorious and to see the newly acquired horses. Stands Above’s and Tallman’s family was there also. But when the wives found that their men had
not returned in the way they had left, it was a scene that almost broke
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e’s heart. He watched the
women grab at the bodies of their men, as the Cheyenne braves slowly removed
them from the back of the horses they were carried on. Their children stood off to the side, crying
and wailing openly. Their grandparents,
kept them from running to the bodies.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e watched the scene with intense green eyes. There was something familiar about the grief these people were
experiencing. Something that was just
on the edge of his inner mind. As he
was trying to remember why this scene gave him such pangs in his heart, it
happened.
All at once,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e felt a pain sear his brain.
It felt as if someone had just hit him over the head with a hammer. His green eyes were tearing in anguish and a
throbbing growing behind them. “What
the hell was happening?” he thought.
His mind felt as if it was shutting down.
Lucky for
him, Mapiya was walking over to him and she saw he was pain. She grabbed his elbow, letting him know that
she was there and said, “Emo'ôhtavo, is there something wrong?”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e could not answer her, he could only shake his head, which made the pain
worst.
“You cannot
fool me. You are not well. Is it the sickness again?”
Mapiya knew of
the sickness that attacked him from time to time. He would complain of his head hurting and sometimes he would even
blackout. Mapiya thought it was because
of the injury to the head that he had received when they found him, but she was
not a healer and he refused to see the healer about it.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e knew what was to come with the spell.
If he did not hold on, he would blackout again. He did not want that. Not in front of the people or Mapiya. He feared it would be looked on as a
weakness. He would not let it take over
his life. He started calmly breathing
in and out with much effort and little by little succeeded in clearing his
vision. The pain finally went down to a mere annoyance and he was able to open
his eyes fully.
Once this
eyes cleared completely, he turned to look at Mapiya. There was concern and fear on her face, something he thought he
would never see because of him. He
grabbed her hands gently and said, “I am fine, my love. It has passed.”
Mapiya looked
at him unsure, but finally nodded that she understood.
“Do you wish
to go home, my love?”
“No. I will stay here with the others. Why don’t you get ready for celebration?”
“This is what
you wish, my love?” she asked, still afraid for him.
“Yes, my
love. I will join you shortly.”
Mapiya nodded her assent and kissed him gently on the cheek. At this moment she did not care who
saw. She then walked away towards their
tipi, leaving Emo'ôhtavo vo'e with his confusion on what just happened before
the pain. He decided that he would not
be able to solve it now. It would have
to wait until later. He then thought
back to the medicine man. Maybe he
could put some sense to all of this. He
then walked back towards the other Cheyenne warriors to help them herd their
new found wealth to the river with the other horses.
*************************************************************************************************************
The Cheyenne
mourned and celebrated the night through. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e joined in the celebration
of the people’s victory, but he did not ignore the mourning that went on by
Stands Above’s and Tallman’s families.
In fact, his mind wandered constantly to the grief and pain that they
were feeling at the lost of a loved one. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e felt there was
something at the edge of thoughts that spoke volumes concerning this act. Something that he might have done the same
for someone he loved at one point in his life.
But he could not remember it and it bothered him more and more.
While
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e tried to remember who would he have mourned for, ó'kôhóme
watched with eyes of hatred. Eyes, that
if possible, would have burned a hole right through Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. His victory was at hand. He had planted the knowledge within the
strange white man that he had met days ago.
He knew the man was desperately seeking this man and either Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e would remember him when he arrived and leave with him, making ó'kôhóme
place a more assured one at his father’s side, or Emo'ôhtavo vo'e would not remember
and kill these men, his friends. Once he had taken the life of the strange
white man, then he would have committed one of the highest sins of a Cheyenne.
To take the life of a brother would shame him not only in the eyes of the Chief
and his people, but also to his white friends. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e would then be
banished from both people and in either case, homeless and without a people to
belong and ó'kôhóme would win.
ó'kôhóme
watched as his sister came walking over from their father’s tipi, carrying food
for the celebration. He knew that his
sister had fallen in love with this White Cheyenne. The whole tribe knew it.
But he did not care. He would
open his sister’s eyes to what kind of man she loved and then she would thank
him for making her see the truth.
Mapiya
brought the food over to the men of the tribe who were celebrating, but she saw
that Emo'ôhtavo vo'e did not seem to be into the festivity. He sat cross-legged on the ground by the
older men, staring into the fire. It was
almost like he was having a vision without going through the usual ritual to
achieve it.
Once she had
served the men, she went to sit beside him.
He seemed to wake as if in a dream and turned to notice Mapiya next to
him.
He had heard
that question earlier.
“What is
wrong? Is it the sickness?” she asked
in English, concerned now and feeling that he was being stubborn again.
“No,
Mapiya. I just . . .”
“What?”
“I just keep
havin’ these visions. They don’t make
any sense to me since I cannot remember anything about them.”
“Talk,
Emo'ôhtavo.”
“Talk?”
“With me.”
Chris shook
his head. “No, Mapiya, I can’t. Not, now.
But I would like to speak to your medicine man, Ma'emestahke.”
“You believe
your visions are powerful medicine, my love?”
“I don’t
rightly know what they are, Mapiya. But
I think he can help.”
“Then, I
think you should talk. Talk to
Ma'emestahke. He is wiser than all of
the Tsitsistaestse.”
“I will speak
to him tomorrow of my dreams and my visions,” Chris stated matter-of-factly.
“Epeva'e! You have become a warrior this day, my
love. You have also shown my people and
my father that you are truly Tsitsistaestse.
You have earned a scar of bravery.
You should be happy,” she said touching the wound on his shoulder. It was currently crusted over with blood and
he only flinched a little as she touched it. “We should tend to this.” Mapiya,
although gladden by the events, still saw something was troubling him.
“Do not
worry, Mapiya. It will be fine,” was
all he said and then started gazing at the fire again.
Mapiya
thought, “Stubborn man!” But she said,
“We will fix before bed, yes?”
He knew she
would not let it go until he agreed. He
looked into her bright brown eyes and smiled.
There was very little he would refuse this beautiful woman. He felt that
this feeling he had for her was something that he had felt before. With whom, he did not know. But at this
moment, it was for Mapiya only. “Yes,”
he finally said.
Mapiya then
smiled brightly, feeling she had won the argument. But Chris saw it as only one little battle, not the war.
As she
stroked his hand with hers, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise
up. His green eyes looked around the
area, trying to discern what made him feel on edge. Finally, he noticed a man, standing near one of the tipis not far
from their place at the campfire side.
The man was trying to nonchalantly conceal himself next to tipi, as if
trying to blend in with it. But it did
not go unnoticed by Chris. When he
succeeded in making out the features, he saw that it was ó'kôhóme, Mapiya’s
brother. He must have seen that Chris
had noticed him, for he very smoothly stood up straighter as if to say, “I know
you see me.” ó'kôhóme then calmly started walking towards the other men of the
Wolf Clan at the other side of the campfire, still looking deathly at
Chris. Chris shivered once ó'kôhóme was
gone. He knew this man was
trouble. The trouble was he did not
have someone to watch his back.
Instantly,
that thought came into his mind, but he did not know from where. The pain that was once quieted, now raged
violently all at once. Chris grabbed
his head with both hands and bent over in pain. A flash of the young man in buckskin and the tall smiling man
came into his head again. “Who were
these men? Why did they seem so
familiar?” he thought to himself.
This did not
go unnoticed by Mapiya and she touched his shoulder ever so gently, awakening
him from his reverie.
“Népévomóhtâhehe?”
“Nákâhaneotse.”
“Come. We go to bed,” Mapiya said, helping Chris to
stand up. They walked back to their
tipi, all the while Mapiya holding on to Chris arm, while he held his head down
in pain, trying to see the way back to their home. He knew he had to speak to the medicine man and quickly, or these
ghosts would jeopardize the happiness he had found with Mapiya.
Vin had been
scouting ahead for the past few hours, trying to get some direction on where
the Cheyenne war party was headed. Dawn had just arisen and sun had barely touched
the grass plains. He had found horse
prints from the battle area and followed them.
The led past the valley and into another valley only a few miles to the
North.
He knew he
was getting closer. As he tracked the
prints, he saw more and more tracks had joined up with the others. The further he tracked, the more the land
became trodden with signs of the Cheyenne.
They were definitely Cheyenne by the moccasin tracks that he had
found. If they were the right Cheyenne,
he would soon find out.
He was about
to top a hillside when he suddenly spied smoke coming from an area not too far
from his position. He quickly
dismounted Peso and laid flat on his belly on the hill. Crawling to the top, he took out his
spyglass and pointed in the direction of the smoke. He saw a Cheyenne camp, just coming to life with people. The women were leaving their tipis and
walking towards the creek to gather water for their morning meal. The men and children were slowly rising from
their beds and walking to the creek to bathe.
He also noticed some braves, most likely the guards of the camp, slowly
exchange places with other braves, which were probably relief guards. It looked to be camp of approximately 100
Cheyenne. He knew that if they had listen to Buck’s plan, they all would have
been dead before they had a chance to talk to Chris, if he was there.
He thought he
had all the information that he would need and started to go back to the others
to tell them of his find, when a tipi flap came open and a tall lean, blonde-haired
brave came walking out. The
blonde-haired Cheyenne stretched his arms as he made his way to the creek with
the other people.
Through his
spyglass he saw it was Chris Larabee, dressed like a Cheyenne. The problem was he was losing what made him
Chris Larabee. His walk was not like
Chris. It was the light steps of a
Cheyenne brave born on caution.
Cheyenne were taught at an early age that a man who would not want to be
tracked could not be if he walked lightly and left no trail. He also carried himself like a Cheyenne,
straight and tall, not the usual Larabee way which usually warned everyone that
this was a dangerous man and to keep away. Vin even assumed that he probably
had the mindset of a Cheyenne and attributed this as the cause of the weakening
of his link to Chris. It was not going to be easy getting this new Chris to
believe who he once was. The Cheyenne
way of life now seemed to be too ingrained into him. Vin’s heart tightened with fear and sadness. If he should loose Chris, he did not know
what he would do? Chris was the only
person that Vin felt such a close kinship to, a brotherly love he had felt for
no other, and now it looked like he was going to loose that. “Chris, Pard,” he
thought. “I know ya cin hear me. Ya have ta!”
As if by some
magically intervention, Vin watched as Chris stood up from his bathing at the
creek. He watched Chris look around the
area, scanning the surrounding with his bright green eyes. He watched as Chris eyes settled upon the
hill on which he was situated. “Shit!”
Vin silently cursed and ducked quickly behind the hill. Chris had seen him, there was no doubt about
this. Whether he recognized him was something he did not know. Vin started back down the hill slowly, when
his feet felt something unmovable behind him.
He turned and looked up to see a Cheyenne brave, standing over him,
pointing a rifle straight at his head.
Vin knew he had been caught and noticed from shifting his eyes that this
brave was not alone. It seemed he had
came with three others and they all had their rifles and bows pointed directly
at him. Vin cursed himself in his
mind. He had been careless and had been
caught unawares. So intent he was on
finding and retrieving Chris, he had forgot to watch his back.
Vin finally
sighed and held his hands up for surrender. The brave closest to him said,
“Néhoveóó'êstse!” When Vin did not
obey, he turned to the other braves and said, “Hestaneha!” Two of the braves
disarmed him and then grabbed him quickly, jerking him to stand on the slight
incline of the hill. The brave then asked him, “Nétsêhésenêstsehe?” Vin knew he was asking if he spoke
Cheyenne.
“Heehe'e,”
replied Vin.
“Then move,”
said the brave in Cheyenne.
Vin complied
with the order and started walking down the other side of the hill towards the
Cheyenne camp with the four braves following close behind him. He would now have his chance to meet Chris,
although it was not his plan to do it as a prisoner of the Cheyenne. He hoped that he would be able to get out of
this alive and get back to others who were probably anxiously waiting his
return. He was in a real predicament
and he had to think of a way out of it.
Cheyenne Vocabulary
Émo'onahe –
You are beautiful (or pretty).
Pévevóona'o –
Good Morning.
Nâhtona – My
daughter.
Neho'eehe –
My father.
vehoo'o
Aenohe – Chief Hawk.
Mónêhé'še –
Are you ready to go?
vé'ho'e –
white man
tsêhésevé'ho'e
– half-breed (half Cheyenne, half white man)
Hémêseestse!
– Come Eat!
Ma'heo'o –
God
Népévomóhtâhehe
– Are you feeling good?
Nemehotâtse –
I love you.
Nákâhaneotse
– I’m tired.
Ma'emestahke
– Red Owl
Nétsêhésenêstsehe?
– Do you talk Cheyenne?
****************************************************************************************************************
The five men
sat around the almost dead campfire, worried mirrored on all their faces. They knew Vin was late from returning. It look as if they had lost another of their
seven. Vin was supposed to have return
before dawn after scouting ahead to find the Cheyenne camp and to report their
numbers. But dawn had came and went two
hours ago and now they were sitting around the almost dead campfire worried
about their friend.
Nathan did
not like the idea when Vin first purposed that he would scout ahead alone. He still thought that the tracker had not
totally given up his resolve to let Larabee go should he not want to. He was afraid that he would fight anyone, to
death if necessary, to bring Larabee back to himself and to his home.
Nathan did
not know that Ezra felt the same way. He had doubts concerning the promise Vin
had made the other day. Although the
tracker had seemed sincere about his promise, Ezra knew there were too many
emotional attachments that Vin carried and those attachments were bound to
cause a conflict with his promise. He
just hoped it would not cost him his life also. He had grown fond of the backwards man and could only hope that
his emotional sensibilities did not get in the way of surviving.
“I think
somethin’ happened,” said J.D. looking to the other men. The others did not speak of their concern
yet, but J.D. had no qualms about expressing his feelings. He cared about the bounty hunter as much as
he cared about the gunfighter. They
both his friends and had saved him many a times from dying young.
Nathan was
frowning and throwing sticks into the dying fire. “I think he got some trouble, Buck.”
“Yeah,
Nathan. I know. But what do we do? We cain’t go down ta that village without getting’ him or
ourselves killed.” Buck had also been
one of the men to try and dissuade the tracker from his plan. Buck had given him an alternative, but Vin
had said that it would only cause all their deaths and they would never have a
chance to get Chris back. But now with
Vin’s plan, it had cost them both the tracker and Chris. Buck did not like it. He did not like it all.
“I believe
our Mr. Tanner has the talent to eviscerate himself from his predicament.”
“What did he
say?” asked J.D confused again by Ezra and his fancy words.
“He says that
Vin is capable of removing himself from the Cheyenne,” was Josiah’s calm
response.
“Dammit,
Ezra! Why don’t cha just speak
English?”
“I believe I
was, Mr. Dunne. Unfortunately, it seems
you do not have the ability to comprehend English when it is spoken.”
“Shut up,
both of ya!” came Nathan’s command. “We
need ta figure out how we gonna get Vin out of there?”
“I say we go
after him. Vin is good at what he does
and he is in God’s hands now, I know.
But I think he might need some divine intervention right about now,
don’t you?” replied Josiah.
“Ya think?”
questioned Buck, smiling broadly.
“Listen,
Buck. Vin knows the way of these
people. He’s better at it than most of
us. Except me, of course,” said Josiah,
trying to lighten the mood.
The others
smiled at this. They knew Josiah knew a
lot about Native Americans. He had also
lived with them during his lifetime as the son of a minister.
“But I say we
go and have a look. See what we might
be up against if we have ta pull ‘im out of it. J.D., you think you cin track him?”
“I cin track,
Josiah,” piped up J.D.
“We know you
cin track, J.D. But how long do ya
think it’ll take?” responded Buck, putting his hand on the young man’s
shoulder.
“I ain’t as
good as Vin, Buck. But I cin find
him. I’m sure of it!”
“Okay, so
J.D. you see if you cin find his tracks.
As soon as ya do, ya come back here and get us. The rest of us cin start breakin’ camp.”
“Good idea,
Nathan,” said Buck, standing up as the others followed suit. He hoped that they could find Vin, and he
hoped safe and sound. He could not
stand to lose one friend and he knew he could not take losing two.
J.D. mounted
his horse as the others started packing up and breaking camp. They would find their friends, even at the
cost of their own lives.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e had awoken refreshed from his dreamless sleep. Last night was the best there had been for him since coming to
the Cheyenne. He had no dreams and the
faces did not come to haunt as usual.
His shoulder and back was healing nicely, and it had less pain than the
day before. His headaches though still
plagued him, but they were becoming less and less. As the faces slowly were disappearing, the head pains were no
longer becoming a problem for him.
He walked
outside the tipi and stretched his sore muscles. The raid on the Pawnee had taken its toll on his body after so
long of no use. He knew it would take
time before he would not feel the twinges that he felt.
He walked to
the creek to bathe before breakfast.
Dawn was just coming up and the water glistened with the new dawning
day. He started to wash himself with
the cold water. It felt cold and
good. He watched as his reflection
sparkled within the surface of the water.
He saw his green eyes and blonde hair and his skin was now a ruddy
tan. Although his skin was darkened,
there was no way no one would mistake him for a Cheyenne. But he felt Cheyenne, his thoughts were
becoming Cheyenne, his life, his people were Cheyenne. How could it have been any other way?
Instantly, he
tensed. His whole body went taut. There
was a tingling that seemed to build up along his whole body. It was as if he felt someone was watching
him, as if eyes were burrowing themselves into his being. He scanned the valley area, peering at every
hill and until he spied something. It
looked like a twinkling of light coming from one of the hillsides. It was there for only a second, but then it
disappeared. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e thought he was either seeing things or maybe he
was not fully awake. He rubbed his eyes
with the back of his hands, but the light did not reappear. He knelt back down at the creek and finished
his bathing. Once done, he walked back
to his tipi to have breakfast with his new family.
When he got
back into the tipi, Mapiya had just started breakfast of rabbit meat and dried
fish. They had Fry Bread that Mapiya
had learned how to make when they lived with a Navajo tribe for a small amount
of time. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e and Chief Aenohe accepted the wooden bowls of food
that Mapiya had served them. She then
grabbed her own bowl and sat down between them. Chief Aenohe prayed and gave thanks over the food, before nodding
his approval to start the first meal of the day.
They had
gotten halfway through the meal, when they heard a commotion outside of the
tipi. There were many men, women and
children shouting and yelling. Most of
it were curses and Emo'ôhtavo vo'e could make out words like “white man” and
“killer of children and women”.
Chief Aenohe
stood and walked quickly out of the tipi.
Mapiya and Emo'ôhtavo vo'e looked at each other first, then followed hurriedly
behind him, not knowing what had happened.
When they had
got outside, they saw that the people of the camp were angry, excited and
scared all at the same time. A group of
four braves was leading a dark-haired white man who was dressed in buckskins,
towards the center of the camp. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e noticed that he was being
dragged roughly and the man tripped several times, but the braves did not
stop. They continued onward, dragging
the young man behind them as if he did not exist. The young man had several times regain his footing, only to trip
again and fall to the ground, to be dragged again and again.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e did not like strangers, just like the other Cheyenne, but he did not like
the way they were treating this man. He
noticed that the warriors that led the man were of the Buffalo Clan and they
usually treated enemies with the least amount of compassion or honor. The Dog Clan would not have done something
like this to an enemy. Every enemy
deserved to die in an honorable way.
Life was important to the Cheyenne and the taking of life was not
something to be done likely and without thought. This act was without honor, without any regard for life and the
way Ma'heo'o had commanded.
Chief Aenohe
and Mapiya had the same thoughts. This
was not an honorable way to treat someone who had done no harm to them. At least not without a trial to prove
otherwise. There was also the lingering
fear of reprisal from white men. Chief
Aenohe walked quickly over to the group and shouted in Cheyenne, “Stop! That will be enough!”
The leader of
the Cheyenne Buffalo warriors known as Mo'ôhtaveo'kome, or Black Coyote,
stopped to stand in front of Chief Aenohe.
He said, “We
found this white man, sneaking around. He is up to no good! I do not trust him. He tried to hide from us, but we see good
and there is no good in someone who sneaks around like a snake.”
Chief Aenohe
was calm. He understood that his people
were frightened by the appearance of a white man, especially one that was not
invited to be among them. But he also
knew that fear was a deadlier threat than the white man was to his people. Fear is what would destroy them before the
white man would and he would not let that happen to his people.
“He is only
guilty of being where he is not wanted.
We do not own the land as the white men try to do. We only live with it and on it. No man can own the clouds or the sky or the
earth or the grass. We will not treat
this man as the white men treat us.
Until he shows that he is an enemy, until we have spoken to the tribal
elders and the man has been given his say, we will not decide his fate before
then. Release him and let him stand
before me.”
There came
many shouts from the people that the man was evil, that he only came to kill the
Cheyenne or to steal from them like the Pawnee. But Chief Aenohe held up his hand for silence and people did as
they were commanded. After all, he was
their leader and no one would think of going against him without a valid
reason.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e knew that Mo'ôhtaveo'kome, was not a force to take likely. He and ó'kôhóme had riled up the young men
against the white men, saying that they needed to be on guard against them and
that all white men were treacherous and would sooner or later take away what
little freedom the Cheyenne had. He
wanted them to kill all the whites and remove them from the face of the
land. But Emo'ôhtavo vo'e was also
confused. He did not understand this
because he had nothing in his memories to relate to this. The words of Mo'ôhtaveo'kome and ó'kôhóme
could possibly be true, but they could not judge all white man based on a
few. He was once white and he did not
think he would do the things that white men were accused of. But then again, he had no memory of his life
before. Could he have been like the
white men that they described? Was he
an honorable man in his previous life or was he as bad as the Cheyenne thought
white men were? Or was he killer of
children and women too.
At that
moment, a flash of memory came into his head.
He saw a young woman and a young child smiling at him from in front of a
wooden house. Then he saw the wooden
house burned to the ground. The bodies
of the woman and the child burnt beyond recognition and his hands digging
within the burnt ruins of the house.
Did he kill them? Did he murder
this white woman and her child? He
plagued him and it scared him to death.
Was he also a white murderer, just as the Cheyenne had accused this
man? He felt his heart beating fast and
his chest felt constricted and without air.
Chief Aenohe
could see the confusion and fear on Emo'ôhtavo vo'e face. He did not like what he was seeing on his
adopted son’s face. He was also afraid
that if they decided this white man should die, would his son betray him and
his people. Although he knew Mapiya
would say no, he knew what a person was could only be decided by that person,
not anyone else.
Mo'ôhtaveo'kome
still stood in front of Chief Aenohe, looking at him angrily. He had not obeyed his Chief’s command. He wanted to believe that Chief Aenohe would
see it his way and let them kill the white man. He was Cheyenne, just like him.
He would not take the side of a white man against his own. Or would he? He then turned to look at Emo'ôhtavo vo'e who was busy trying to
bring his mind and body under control.
He had brought this white man among them. But Mapiya had said he was different and so far he had nothing to
prove her wrong.
Chief Aenohe
saw that Mo'ôhtaveo'kome had not moved to follow his order. He then said again in a threatening tone,
“Release him, now!”
Mo'ôhtaveo'kome
looked around at the people gathered and knew that disobeying his Chief would
not turn the people to his way of thinking.
It would only create dissension and fraction. He could not have that if he was ever to lead the people to their
victory over the white man. He would
let Chief Aenohe win this one, but the war was not over.
Mo'ôhtaveo'kome
nodded and the he turned to his young warriors and said, “Cut his bonds!”
The men cut
the white man’s bonds and then grabbed him by the arms to have him stand in
front of Chief Aenohe. If they had not,
he would have fell limply to the ground.
The man’s head was bowed. He was
tired and hurt. Several cuts and
bruises threw torn patches of his buckskin showed that the warriors were not
easy on him as they were bringing him to the camp. They must have dragged him by horse at first and then finally by
foot. His curly brown hair covered in
dirt and dust hid his face. Chief
Aenohe gently took his head into his hand and lifted the man’s face. He found himself staring into a dirt-covered
youthful face with the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. The eyes were glazed and Chief Aenohe
realized that the white man did not even recognize where he was or when. He watched as those blue eyes closed and he
knew the man was unconscious.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e had seen the face of the white man.
He had gaped at the man’s face.
As soon as I saw the man, his headache returned in full force.
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e’s face screwed up in pain.
The face was the face of his dreams.
It was one of the faces that haunted him every night until last
night. He wanted to run up to the man
and shake him, demanding the man to tell him who he was and if he knew of he,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. But fear and pain took
his initial want away. Fear that he
would find out that what he was, was not honorable, and had hurt people without
reason or purpose. The fear that he was just like how the Cheyenne had
described the white men. Then there
was the pain of finding out that this man was not a friend but an enemy and
that either way he would have to watch him die.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e’s look did not go unnoticed.
Mapiya saw the anguish on his face and her heart leapt into her
throat. “Was this man someone who would
take her love away from her?” Her fear
of this man was so overpowering and she quickly grabbed on to Emo'ôhtavo vo'e’s
arm, as if by holding onto him, it would keep him with her.
Someone else
noticed Emo'ôhtavo vo'e’s look when he saw the strange white man. ó'kôhóme was
glaring with hatred at him from behind the other warriors. He knew who this white man was and he knew
what it could mean to Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.
He saw the warring emotions as they flitted across Emo'ôhtavo vo'e’s
face. “Yes, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. The end of
your place here will be at an end,” he thought to himself.
Chief Aenohe
turned to his daughter and his adopted son.
He said, “We will take the white man to our tipi. He is hurt and will not be judged until he
can stand on his own and speak for himself.”
Mapiya looked at him shocked. Her fear was strangling her heart. She did not want this white man in her
home. What if he was someone who knew
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e? What if he was someone
who had came looking for him? She would
loose the only man that she had ever loved.
She could not accept that.
She turned
quickly to her father, pulling him aside so that Emo'ôhtavo vo'e could not hear
their conversation. “Father, why not let the Holy Man take care of him. He has powerful medicine to heal him.”
Her father
was not so naïve. He knew what his
daughter was up to and his heart ached for her. But he knew it would not be right. “You have taken good care of Emo'ôhtavo vo'e when he was
hurt. You brought him back from
death. You would be better for the
white man.”
“But father,
he needs more than I can give,” pleaded Mapiya quickly, trying to find a way
out of it.
“But you
speak their tongue, my daughter. Better
than anyone else in the camp. No. My decision is final. He will stay with us and you shall care for
him. I know that you fear you will
loose Emo'ôhtavo vo'e, my daughter. But
you must let him choose. If you do not,
you may loose him anyway if he founds out what you have done.”
Mapiya looked
at her father. Tears were slowly
forming in her brown eyes. But in her
heart she knew her father was right. It
was the wise thing to do. She slowly
relented and her father kissed her gently upon the head.
“That is my
wise woman,” he said smiling at her.
Mapiya smiled back sadly.
Chief Aenohe
then turned to his people. He said in
his most authoritative tone, “The white man shall be cared for by my
daughter. No one is to harm him while
he heals. As soon as my daughter deems
him fit, he will be placed before the tribal council to be questioned. Until then, he under my protection and the
protection of the Cheyenne.”
Several
people objected, saying it was trick.
That the white man did not come alone and that he only sought to kill
the Cheyenne. Chief Aenohe held his hands
up high, commanding silence. “I am your
Chief. If you feel that I have not
fulfilled my duty and my responsibility to the people, then let him who would
be chief approach and challenge me.”
The people
all looked around at each other, trying to see who would challenge such a great
chief as Aenohe. Even Mo'ôhtaveo'kome and ó'kôhóme knew this would be a foolish
act on anyone’s part. Chief Aenohe was
a beloved chief among the Cheyenne.
There were many warriors who would die for him and many other chiefs who
respected him. The man who would
challenge Chief Aenohe would be a dead man if he tried.
When Chief
Aenohe saw that no one would challenge him, he ordered the Buffalo Warriors to
take the white man to his tipi. They
dragged the man quickly past Chief Aenohe, Mapiya and Emo'ôhtavo vo'e towards
their home. Mapiya turned to follow,
but Emo'ôhtavo vo'e stood where he was, staring at the departing figure being
pulled towards his home. Mapiya
hesitated, but her father came up from behind her and gently pushed her
along. They left Emo'ôhtavo vo'e
standing there, deep into what turbulent thoughts that raged in his mind.
Cheyenne
Vocabulary
Émo'onahe –
You are beautiful (or pretty).
Pévevóona'o –
Good Morning.
Nâhtona – My
daughter.
Neho'eehe –
My father.
vehoo'o
Aenohe – Chief Hawk.
Mónêhé'še –
Are you ready to go?
vé'ho'e –
white man
tsêhésevé'ho'e
– half-breed (half Cheyenne, half white man)
Hémêseestse!
– Come Eat!
Ma'heo'o –
God
Népévomóhtâhehe
– Are you feeling good?
Nemehotâtse –
I love you.
Nákâhaneotse
– I’m tired.
Ma'emestahke
– Red Owl
Nétsêhésenêstsehe?
– Do you talk Cheyenne?
Nétónêševéhe? – What is your name?
**************************************************************************************************************
The strange
white man had been unconscious all day.
Mapiya had cleaned his cuts and bruises and he lay naked under the
blanket. She had wiped his fevered
face, brushing back the curly brown hair, which was matted to his
forehead. He had the face of a child
and the body of a man. He was beautiful
to look at, but was he also beautiful in his heart. That is the one place that mattered to Mapiya. For if he was, and if he was a friend to
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e, then maybe he would let him go. Let him stay with Mapiya and her people. Let him be happy. She could only hope.
The flap of
the tipi came open and Mapiya watched as Emo'ôhtavo vo'e came walking in. His face looked drawn and pale. He sat down by the fire, staring into the
smoking embers. She did not like what
this stranger had done to her love. He
seemed so far away from her and the people.
He seemed so lost and she knew the stranger had brought the turmoil that
now ravaged his heart. She did not know
how long he had stood outside. She knew
since they had brought the white man into their tipi, he had not come with them
and had not returned for a long time.
She turned to him and said in Cheyenne, “You have not eaten since this
morning, my love. Are you hungry?”
Chris broke
his gaze from the embers and looked at Mapiya.
He knew that Mapiya saw the pain and anguish that he was going through
as she moved closer to him, hugging him gently to her. Chris hugged her back fiercely, wanting it
all to go away, wanting the images that blazed across his mind to vanish away
like his memory. But they would
not. They would not stop and he did not
know how to make them stop. His head
pounded intensely, the pain making his head feel as if it would explode. He swallowed hard, his mouth was dry from
the pain and the heat that he felt and made him nauseous.
After Mapiya
released him, he slowly walked over to pallet and lay down upon it. Mapiya knew he was not well. She could see it in his face and in his
eyes, but it was a pain that she could not stop. All she could do was numb it for a time. She took out her medicine pouch, which she
carried with her and moved to the side of the tipi. She took up a cup and placed water and the herbs into it. She then quickly went over to Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e and handed him the cup. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e drank until he could drink no more
and then put the cup down by his pallet.
“Rest, my
love. I given you something that will
help you sleep.”
He eyed her
lovingly with his bright green eyes.
“You are good for me, love. Too good I think.”
Mapiya smiled
at him and traced the scar on his forehead that had formed from his
accident. “You are my life, my
love. I want us to be together, as a
man and a woman should.”
“I want that
also, Mapiya.”
“Then ask my
father tonight. Let him know that this
is what you desire. I am sure that he will not object. You have many horses now. You have proven that you are a warrior. My father admires you and he has told me
that he will ask that you join the Dog Clan.
This is more than any warrior could hope for,” explained Mapiya
excitedly.
Chris knew
Mapiya was right. This was the best
time to approach Chief Aenohe about taking Mapiya as his wife. It would also seal his life with the
Cheyenne. He would be able to put his
unknown past behind him and then forge a new life, new memories, and a new
person without a past to haunt him.
“I will talk
to your father. The sooner, the
better. We will start a new life
together.”
Mapiya smiled
widely at his words. He was hers and
she was his. Together they would bear
many children and make her people proud. They would finally see that she had
made the right decision.
Chris felt
his eyes getting heavier. The portion
that Mapiya had given him was working.
He felt tired, but the pain was easing with the tiredness. “I will sleep now. Wake me when your father returns,” he said, as his eyes closed.
Mapiya had
watched as his fell into a deep sleep.
She saw that his breathing had calm with the taking of the portion. She knew the herbs were easing his
pain. It would take much more from her
to make his other pain go away. But if
everything went as planned then that would also be just a bad memory.
She was about
to leave when she heard the white man on the other side moan in pain. She quickly went to him and kneeled down
next to him. Taking a cloth, she wiped
his fevered brow. The warriors had not
been gently with him and although she had cleaned his wounds, he was still
hot. Mapiya knew that this was the sign
of a fever starting. As she was about
to go get some more water for the cloth, she suddenly felt a hand on her
arm. She turned quickly, startled by
the contact, to find a pair of blue eyes, glazed in pain, staring at her.
“Nétónêševéhe?” said the white man.
“Mapiya
náheševéhe. Nétsêhésenêstsehe?”
“Héehe'e,” he said trying to rise.
“Do not. You will only hurt more,” replied Mapiya,
pushing the man back on to the pallet.
“Ya speak
english?”
“I speak some.”
“How long
have I been here?”
“Only a few.
. . how you say, . . .hours?”
“Yes. Hours.
So not that long.”
“No. Not long.
You are hurt. You must
rest. Are you hungry?”
“No,
ma’am. I ain’t right now. Just hurt all over.”
“I am. . . how
you say, I feel bad at what our men did.
They do not trust whites easily.”
“I cin
understand that. I have lived with the
Comanche for awhile. I know what the
white man can do and what they have done ta yaur people.”
“You lived
with Comanche? “
“Yes. That was long ago, though. I did not come here ta spy on ya
people. I came here lookin’ for a
friend of mine.”
“He means
much to you?” asked Mapiya, her fear now rising in her.
“Yes. He means much to me.”
“Then you
must rest so that you will have strength,” she said starting to move away.
“Wait. I need to talk ta ya about my friend.”
“Later. When you have rested. Sleep now.
I will be back,” she said walking out of the tipi.
Vin closed
his eyes. His head was pounding and his
wounds felt no better. He had to get
out of here and try to find Chris, but he knew these people would not let him
roam their camp freely. He did not fool
himself. He knew he was prisoner until
they decided otherwise. His arms and
legs ached from the dragging he received and he tried to turn over on his side
to relief some of the pain. As he did, his fuzzy eyes, noticed that someone was
lying in a pallet on the other side of the tipi. He rubbed his eyes to clear them and found that it was a
man. A Cheyenne brave to be exact. His
back was turned towards Vin. He was
about to lie back and go back to sleep, when he noticed that the brave had
blonde hair. Blonde hair? Chris?
Ignoring the
pain that came from moving, Vin got up from the pallet and crawled slowly over to
the sleeping form. When he got to him, he gently touched his naked
shoulder. Chris turned, but did not
awake. His eyes were closed, but Vin
could tell that he must be drugged, because Chris would never let anyone creep
up on him like he had just did. He also
noticed that Chris was in pain.
Although he was asleep, his face was taut and his breathing was
rapid. He also noticed a scar running
across the top of his forehead and a scar that looked like it went deep into
his shoulder that looked healed. There
was also a deep gash on his arm that looked recent and was still healing.
“What
happened ta ya, Chris?” he thought to himself.
Nathan had said that being hit on the head hard enough could cause
memory loss, but he also said sometimes the person’s memory came back. He just did not understand why Chris’ memory
did not.
He decided he
needed to speak with Chris while Mapiya was gone. He did not think he would get another chance when she got back
from wherever she went. He touched Chris again, this time with more force. Still, Chris did not move. He shook him gently, trying to wake him from
his stupor and he was finally awarded with a pair of green eyes, unfocused, staring
at him.
As Chris eyes
came sharply into clarity, he saw the face of a young white man, with eyes the
color of blue he had never seen before, leaning over him. Chris immediately
jumped back from the face, moving more into the corner, his hand touching the
knife on his hip. Vin saw the movement
and also knew that he was staring into the eyes of a Cheyenne, not his
friend.
Vin held up
his hands in front of him, trying to calm Chris down. “Take it easy. I ain’t
here ta hurt ya.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e’s green eyes screwed up in concentration.
This man’s face was familiar, but he did not know from where. He had only seen this face in his dreams. But his dreams did not tell him whether this
man was friend or foe.
“I wasn’t
doing nothin’, Pard. I was tryin’ ta
wake ya. Don’t cha remember me? Come on, Chris. Think!” said Vin, lowering his hands and inching closer to him.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e grabbed his knife from his hip and held it out towards the man. This man frightened him and there was not
much that could do that. Why, he did
not know. He only knew he did not want
him to get any closer to him.
“Chris, ya
got ta remember,” pleaded Vin as he moved even closer to the man.
Vin held up
his hands again, seeing that his strategy was not working.
“Okay,
Pard. Okay. I’m not gonna move any closer.
I just want ta talk. Understand?
Ya haven’t forgotten ya English, now have ya?” asked Vin concerned that
he had.
“No,” came
Chris’ simple reply.
“Good. Cause
ya almost got me worried there for a minute, Pard,” he said with a smile.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e still kept his guard. Although
this man seemed likable, he was still an enemy of his people. He knew how the stories went about how the
white man could not be trusted, how they had lied to the Cheyenne so many times
as they burned their homes, killed their women and children and tried to imprison
them.
Vin could see
that there was little left of the old Chris.
This man here was not Chris Larabee.
Maybe the others were right.
Maybe there was nothing left of Chris Larabee to bring back home. He
shook his head frantically. No. He could not think like that. He would not give up on Chris and he knew
Chris would not give up on him.
“Do ya
remember ya name, Pard?” asked Vin, tentatively.
“My name is
Em…Emo'ôhtavo vo'e,” replied Chris.
“Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e. That means Black Storm, don’t
it?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
“My name is
Vin Tanner.”
“Do you know
me?” questioned Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.
“I sure do,
Stud. We’re friends.”
“We are? How come I don’t remember you?” asked
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e suspiciously.
Vin rolled
his eyes in exasperation. He wished
Nathan was here. He would know what to
do. As of now, Vin was just playing it
by ear.
“Cause ya had
an accident, Pard. It made ya loose ya
memory. I think that’s where ya got
that scar on ya head.”
At his statement,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e touched his forehead gingerly, feeling the scar that now
adorned his head.
“I don’t
remember.” His eyes were pleading with
Vin. Pleading for him to tell him what
happened. But Vin could not. He did not
know what had happened to Chris. All he
knew was he wanted his friend back.
“Don’t cha
want ta go home?’
“Home? I am home.” Chris had stated simply. As far as he was concern, this was the only
home he had ever known.
“Don’t ya
want ta see the boys again?”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e’s glared at Vin in confusion. Vin
had missed that glare. “What boys?”
“Our other
friends. Nathan, Josiah, Buck, J.D. and
Ezra. Ya remember Ezra don’t cha? He’s
a hard one ta forget,” Vin said laughingly.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e shook his head emphatically. He
could not remember any of them. They
were strange names to him. Names that
he could not put faces to.
Vin looked at
him disappointed and heartbroken. They
had waited too long. If they had got to
him sooner. If he, had got to him
sooner. He felt the guilt trying to eat
it’s way into his soul, into his heart.
Then he could hear Chris’ words from before. Chris said, “Don’t go blamin’ yourself. There was nothing you could do.”
That was what the old Chris would say.
He did not know what this Chris would say.
“Chris,
listen . . .”
“My name is
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.”
“Listen,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. Ya name is really
Chris Larabee. Ya a peacekeeper for a
town called Four Corners. Ya ride with
me, Buck, Nathan, Josiah, J.D. and Ezra.
We’ve been through good and bad times together. And we always stick up for each other and
watch each others’ backs.”
At the last
sentence, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e stared hard at the man. The last part had hit home.
He had heard that before.
“What did you
say?”
“Which part?”
“The part
about watching backs.”
“All I said
was that we always watch each others’ backs.”
“Yes. That.
I have heard it before,” said Emo'ôhtavo vo'e as his eyes looked glazed
over.
Vin knew
Chris was somewhere, but not here with him.
Maybe he was remembering and if he was then, maybe he would have Chris
Larabee back.
Suddenly,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e shivered and then stood up. The pain in his head came back in
full force. He started rubbing his
forehead with his left hand, while still holding the knife in his left. He looked at Vin angrily and Vin thought he
looked as if he was planning on using that knife on him. Vin started slowly inching back towards his
pallet, keeping his eyes on the knife.
“Chris? What’s wrong?”
“My name is
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e! It is not this
Chris! I do not want to hear anymore!”
yelled Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. This man had
brought him pain. His head felt as if
it would explode. He could not do
this. He did not want to do this.
“Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e, tell me what’s wrong?” Vin was
afraid for Chris. He did not know what
was going on but he knew it was not good.
“Okay. Just take it easy,” said Vin as he finally
ended up on his own pallet.
He watched as
Chris swayed on his feet. He knew he
was becoming ill, but he also knew that he if approached him, he would probably
attack. He tried to remember that the
Chris Larabee he once knew was almost gone and in its stead was a Cheyenne who
distrusted strangers.
“Hey, why
don’t cha sit down, Pard. Ya look like
ya gonna fall over.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e just wanted the man to stop talking.
The more he talked, the more pain Emo'ôhtavo vo'e would feel. But he knew the man was right about one
thing. If he did not sit down, he
definitely would fall down. The pain brought weakness and he was on the edge of
fallen into the darkness. Finally, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e collapsed onto his own
pallet in a seated position, but still held the knife aloft, still pointing it
towards Vin’s direction.
“That’s
right, Pard,” said Vin soothingly. As
he kept talking softly and calmly to Chris, Vin had laid back onto his own
pallet, trying to make Chris feel comfortable.
Slowly it worked and then Chris also laid on his own pallet, still
facing Vin with the knife by his side.
“Don’t worry,
Pard. I ain’t gonna try anythin’. Get some sleep. Everything will be clearer later on.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e did not hear the last of his words.
His eyes were closed and body still.
Vin thought something worst had happened and crawled quickly to where
the man lay. He touched his neck with
his fingers and sighed in relief. He
then moved back to his own pallet again and lay there, waiting patiently for
Mapiya to return, while his friend slept soundly. He hoped the others would hurry up and get here. Although he thought he did not need there
help, he realized he was wrong. There
was no way he was going to get Larabee out here without them.
Cheyenne
Vocabulary
Émo'onahe –
You are beautiful (or pretty).
Pévevóona'o –
Good Morning.
Nâhtona – My
daughter.
Neho'eehe –
My father.
vehoo'o
Aenohe – Chief Hawk.
Mónêhé'še –
Are you ready to go?
vé'ho'e –
white man
tsêhésevé'ho'e
– half-breed (half Cheyenne, half white man)
Hémêseestse!
– Come Eat!
Ma'heo'o –
God
Népévomóhtâhehe
– Are you feeling good?
Nemehotâtse –
I love you.
Nákâhaneotse
– I’m tired.
Ma'emestahke
– Red Owl
Nétsêhésenêstsehe?
– Do you talk Cheyenne?
Nétónêševéhe? – What is your name?
TBC
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