The six
peacekeepers were riding for about six hours.
They had left Four Corners at dawn, taking only long enough to say
goodbye to Mary Travis, Inez and the Judge and letting know their plans for
traveling.
Vin led the
group, stopping to check the trail every hour or so. So far, there was no sign of Chris Larabee’s passing. They had almost ridden into a Comanche
hunting party about two hours ago. But
due to Vin’s diligence, they had avoided any confrontation with the roving
party. Vin explained that it was a good
idea for them not to be seen. Although
he knew the Comanche people well, he also knew that they would not take it
likely that white men were in their country.
Although the government and the settlers would not deem it so, the land
had been the Comanche’s before it was anyone else’s. Vin knew this and respected this. Some white men died because they did not. Vin had survived
because he had always shown them respect as was due to them.
As Vin
stopped again and the others looked at him with concern and anticipation.
“What’s
wrong, Vin?” asked Nathan. “ Did ya find somethin’?”
“Nope. Not, yet.
But I will,” came his soft response.
Vin knew that Chris was out there, alive somewhere. He just needed to find out where. He had been searching the trail and so far,
had found no clue as to his whereabouts.
But he knew through his connection to Larabee’s soul that he was getting
near and he was not about to give up now.
Nathan and
Josiah kept a close eye on the Tracker.
Although he had told them several times on the trail that he was fine,
they could see the tiredness and exhaustion he was suffering from worrying
about Chris. Lately, the usually, the
graceful young man had been stumbling ever so often in his steps the past
couple of hours. He had not eaten since
yesterday when he just picked at his food.
Both Nathan and Josiah were worried that they would lose another friend
and did not want that to happen.
“Hey,
Vin. Why don’t we just take a break
right now?” piped up Nathan. “Ya can
take a rest also.”
“Yeah,
Vin. Nathan’s right. The horses need a rest and so do we all,”
joined in Josiah.
“Ya can do
what cha want, but I ain’t tired,” replied Vin sharply.
“Whoa, there
Pard,” intervened Buck. “We got
time. Chris is out there and he ain’t
goin’ nowhere for the time being.”
Vin turned to
glare directly at Buck and the others.
Buck looked at that glare, and knew Vin would have made Chris Larabee
real proud.
“Now, don’t
cha go and usin’ that Larabee look with me, Pard. Chris is my friend too.
But I’m sure he wouldn’a like if, if ya killed yourself lookin’ for ‘im,
now would he?” came Buck’s counter.
Vin knew Buck
was right, but he also knew Chris was close and he was not about to lose the
best friend he ever had. Chris was the
one that stood by him when he told him he was wanted for murder in Tascosa,
Texas. Chris was the one who was
willing to risk the hangman’s noose to set him free when Eli Joe showed up with
that fake marshal. No. He was not going to let Chris Larabee
die. No matter what it would cost him.
“I need ta
scout out ahead. Ya’ll can wait for me
here till I get back.”
“I’ll go with
ya, Vin.”
“Nah, J.D. Ya stay here with the others. I need ta do this alone.”
“And when
will you be back, my adept colleague?” queried Ezra, getting down from his
horse, Chaucer.
“When I get
back, Ezra. Whenever that is,” was
Vin’s simply reply.
Ezra looked
to the others and shrugged his shoulders.
He knew what the others were trying to do and he had tried his best to
assist them, but it seemed that the Tracker was exactly like their fearless
leader. Hard-headed as a mule.
They all knew
they were losing the battle to keep Vin here and they felt fear at
relinquishing their hold on him.
Vin knew what
his friends were trying to do and he knew they were worried about him. He knew he should be thankful to have just
good and caring friends, but he was worried about one friend in particular and
was concern that there was no one there for him.
“Listen I
thank ya for the concern, but Chris is more important than anythin’ ‘bout me,
understand?”
The others
stared in sympathy. They did understand
as it was how they were all feeling, but they also knew that it was
unreasonable to think that Chris would expect them to come without heed to
their own well being. If he did, then
he would not be Chris. He put others’
concerns before his own. They knew it
would not make him happy once they found him that they had taken ill care of
one of their own.
“Listen,
Vin. Why don’t we do this,” chimed in
J.D. “We can get some rest first, for a few minutes and then the horses will be
able to ride for a little while longer before we hit night. How’s that?” J.D. had decided to plead to his
humanitarian side. The one he had
especially for animals. In this way,
Vin could save face from admitting that he was tired and that would give the
others an opportunity to make the stubborn tracker rest.
Vin looked
thoughtfully at J.D. and the others.
Peso and the other horses did need a rest. That was true. They had been riding them hard and he knew
Chris would never go for that considering his love of horses. He also knew that the others were right in
the preposition that if the horses rested awhile they would get more out of
them before night. And he needed to get
further along than where they were currently.
Vin nodded in
agreement, slowly. “We rest for two
hours, but as soon as the horses are rested, we get saddled up, okay?”
The others
all nodded gratefully and started dismounting and unsaddling their horses. Vin did the same, but with much regret. “Just hang on, Chris. We’re coming,” he thought to himself.
The evening
came quickly for the six peacekeepers.
They all felt the lost of their friend and leader tremendously. But they also knew it was becoming
detrimental for Vin. He had pushed them
harder as soon as the two hours were up.
They had been riding for six hours now.
They needed sleep and the horses needed rest. Vin was acting as if he was possessed by a demon, always urging
them on to another rise over a hill or another mile or so. They could see that his body was losing,
although his will was determined. Twice
he almost fell from his horse when he tried to dismount to check the
trail. The others noticed it, but said
nothing. But now it was becoming
apparent that the young tracker would die before giving up the hunt. Nathan in particular, was one who feared
this the most. He was totally and
unequivocally wrangled by it. He tried
to talk the Tracker into listening to his friends several times, and each time
Vin refused to hear it. He simply walked away.
But Nathan was not the kind of person to give up easily either.
It was
getting dark and Vin still rode onward in front of the others, searching with
his eyes, which burned from too little sleep.
Nathan and Josiah had thought up a plan that would make Vin take the
rest he deserved so much. The others
would back them up, if needed. But
Nathan and Josiah decided that they would the best ones to carry out the plan
since once Vin realized what they had done to him, he might take it upon
himself to avenge the deed. Nathan and
Josiah knew that they would be least likely to come under fire from the young
ex-bounty hunter.
As Vin got
off his horse to check the trail again, Nathan and Josiah walked over to where
he knelt.
“So,
Vin. Did ya find anything?” asked
Josiah.
“Nope. But I will, believe me.”
“Let me take
a look, Vin. Maybe I can see something
that you can’t.” said Josiah, winking at Nathan above Vin’s bent back.
As Josiah
started to bend down where Vin knelt, grabbed a hold of Vin’s shoulder and
without hesitating, slammed his fist into Vin’s face. Vin, of course, being caught off guard and exhausted had not seen
it coming. All he knew was the pain he
felt as Josiah’s face connected with his jaw.
Vin fell flat on to the hard ground, unmoving.
Nathan then
rushed over and checked Vin. He said,
“He’s out like a light. And he’s got a
bruise on his face, but he is alive and breathing. I’m sorry it had ta be this way, Vin. But luckily, ya got a hard head.”
Nathan then
turned to the others and motioned for them to set up camp and create a pallet
to the lay the unconscious tracker on.
He also told J.D. to get his saddlebags and start boiling some hot
water. He knew when Vin awoke; he would
need some of his healing herb tea.
Chris woke
with a start, sitting up quickly. Too
quickly in fact that he felt the pain which set his back on fire. He looked around, panicking, not realizing
where he was. Then he remembered Mapiya
and the Cheyenne who had helped him. He
must have fallen asleep sometime earlier, but he could not remember when. His mind flitted between the waking world
and the dream world from which he came from.
He dreamt of the longhaired young man, with eyes of sky blue, but this
time the man was accompanied by a tall older man, who wore a mustache and had
brown eyes. But the one thing that
stood out on this person was his smile.
It was infectious and Chris felt some type of connection, not only to
the longhaired, blue-eyed man, but also to this tall, laughing, brown-eyed one
too.
Who were
these men? Where they friends or
foes? From the way he felt, for some
reason, he knew they were friends, but he did not know from where or how. His head started aching again and finally Chris
gave up the thoughts due to the pain.
He would rest for now, and then maybe later, he would try again.
His eyes
started to drift close again, when the flap of the tipi opened and Mapiya
walked in, and she was not alone this time.
There were too Cheyenne braves with her this time, one was a young brave
and the other, looked to be an older brave.
The young brave Chris guessed to be at least in his twenties, the older
brave in his fifties, at least.
They both
stood near the flap entrance, not making any move to come close to Chris. Mapiya walked over to both of the men and with
her right hand, touched the young brave’s chest. “This is ó'kôhóme. Name
mean Coyote. He is brother.” She then
moved to the elderly brave and said “And this is father, Chief Aenohe of the
Heévâhetane. Name Aenohe mean Hawk in
your tongue.”
“What does
the other word mean?” asked Chris curious.
“Heévâhetane? It mean. . . It mean . . .” She then turned to her father and said
something that Chris could not understand.
She then turned back to Chris and said, “It mean Cheyenne, but of a
different place. You white man call the
winds by this name. I think it is
Sooth?” she looked at Chris questioning.
“South? You mean Southern?”
“Ah,
yes. That is it. Soo-thurn.”
“I guess
that’s close enough. It is my pleasure
to meet your brother and your father.”
“It is time
to bring you to Sásóóvéta and the sweat house.
There we will make better and there we will give you new name.”
Chris gaped
at her in shock. New name? He did not want a new name. He wanted his old name back.
Mapiya saw
the distress on his face and the surprise at her statement. She did not mean to bring hurt to this
one. She would never hurt him. She said
quickly, “It is not a true name, but one which we will call you. We cannot keep calling you, man all the time
and in time, you will remember what you are call as true. But this is so you do not go nameless,
without family, without a people. You
will be a part of our people. We will
not force it upon you. We wish you join
us. Become a part of the people. Only until you remember.”
Chris heard
Mapiya’s plead. It was true, he did not
remember who he was, but he did not want to stop trying to find out. Chris thought silently at her words and as
he did the one called “Coyote” said something to Mapiya in an angry tone.
Mapiya turned
to her brother, and said something back, which immediately, the young brave
closed his mouth and stood stern next to the flap door.
“What was
that about?”
Mapiya looked
to Chris unconcerned and said, “He is young.
He speaks like a child. Don’t not
concern.”
Chris did not
like it and he did not like the fact that the young brave was looking at him
with hostility in his eyes.
Mapiya’s
father then step forward. Being a wise
and noble chief, he did not want the man coming among them, not knowing how
some of the people felt about the white man in their midst.
“My son does
speak like a child. But he speaks what
is in his heart, man. Some of the
people believe it a bad medicine for you to stay here. Some people believe that the white men are
like all men and there are good and there are bad and we will see in time which
one of them you are. In the end, I am
Chief and Mapiya is the wise woman of the tribe. Judgement will be made by the
naming ceremony and by your deeds and by the Tribal Council. Nothing else will make the decision but
those.”
Chris looked
at him and nodded his understanding. He
liked this man. He was honest and it
was hard to find an honest men even among his people. He then looked to Mapiya, the woman who had saved his life and
had cared for him. He saw sadness in
her eyes and something else. Was it
fear? What was the fear? That he would deny her request? Yes, that was it. But Chris felt something for this woman. What it was, he did not know. He could not call it love, but there was
something. Friendship, maybe. But as he thought about more, a picture of a
blonde-haired woman, standing in front of a storefront in a black dress. The sight of her for some reason melted his
heart, but for some reason he knew he could not openly show this woman the love
he felt for her. Why he could not, he
did not know.
Chris was
pulled back from his daydream to Mapiya.
She was staring at him with concern.
“Is there something not good?” she asked.
Chris looked at
her, and the grimace on his face that he had when he was daydreaming
faded. “No, Mapiya. I am just a little tired.”
“A little
tired?” questioned Mapiya unconvinced.
“Okay. I am a lot tired.”
“Better. Do not worry. My brother and father will escort you to the sweathouse to make
you better and then we will have the naming ceremony in the Tribal
Council. Our healer waits for you.”
“Do you
consent?” he heard in the voice of Aenohe, the chief.
Chris eyed
Chief Aenohe, pondering his words. He
did not know his own true name at this moment.
But he would not give up trying.
He wanted to make sure that Mapiya and her people understood that he
would not give up trying to find out who he really was.
“Chief
Aenohe, I consent on one condition.”
Mapiya and the Chief waited patiently for him to finish. “I will not
give up trying to find out who I really am.”
Chief Aenohe
nodded. He understood what this man was
going through. To have lost all
knowledge of self, family, friends and a place to belong would be unthinkable
to one of his people. Mapiya also
looked in understanding and saw the sorrow in his face. She would not bravely face the unknown of
forgetfulness and survived it whole.
This man was strong. Stronger
than any other she had known.
“We will not
force you. We only want to help.”
Chris’s face then
turned to one of acceptance and he smiled gently at Mapiya. He nodded his agreement to them.
Chief Aenohe,
Mapiya and ó'kôhóme then started preparing Chris for his journey to the sweat
lodge.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 7
After the
sweat lodge event, Chris was tired out.
The stream and smoke had made him more tired than he was when he first
entered. Upon entering the abode in
which they had him staying, they had helped him to sit heavily down on to his
pallet bed. He wanted to go back to
sleep, but Mapiya and her father would not let him. Mapiya’s brother had left immediately after helping them place
him on his pallet bed. Chris did not
like the way he had looked at him before he left. He was hoping that he was not going to be trouble for him. He realized in the end that he needed to
remember who he was before something bad happened.
He was about
to lie down on the pallet when Mapiya stopped him.
“No, you
cannot.”
“Why not?”
“You must be
dressed.”
“Dressed?”
queried Chris.
“Yes. For the naming.”
“Now?”
“Yes,
yes. It must be now. The tribal elders wait us.”
Chris looked
to Chief Aenohe. He just nodded in
agreement with his daughter.
“Alright. But I think you making a big mistake.”
“No
mis…take,” said Mapiya. “We know here,”
and she pointed to her head. “And,
here,” she said pointing to her heart.
Chris bowed
his head in thought. She was
right. As of this moment, he had no
home, no memory and no life. Here, he
would have a home, a people and life.
It would suffice for the moment, but only for the moment.
Mapiya went
to the side of the tipi and picked up a bundle. She laid the bundle at Chris’ feet and when she opened it up, it
held deerskin breeches and a breechcloth made of some sort of soft red cloth. It also held a deerskin shirt with intricate
beading along the breast and the trim, and a pair of soft deerskin
moccasins. Along with the beading were
shells and elk teeth that made a beautiful design on the front of the shirt. A
red headband with white blue and green beads in a row design.
Chris glared
at her in his usual “you got to be kidding”, glare. Mapiya noticed the glare, but only stood up with her arms folded
across her chest in defiance. She
glared back at him and he knew she would not take “no” for an answer.
Chris sighed heavily
and gave up. He was not going to win
this argument either. He picked up the
clothes and motioned his head towards the flap door. Mapiya looked at him confused, but then she started to
smile. Her brown eyes lighted
gleefully.
“I have seen
naked men before. You have nothing
new,” she stated laughingly.
Chris rolled
his eyes and reddened at her meaning.
“I will not get dress until you leave.”
He was not going to be embarrassed by Mapiya. Not at his own expense.
Mapiya smiled
widened, but she relented. “Very well, man.
But I will be back.” He heard
her laughing as she walked out of the tipi, her father following behind her,
hiding his own smile.
Once they
were gone, Chris smiled to himself.
This was going to be an interesting night, he thought to himself. He wondered what else would happen and
cautiously started getting dress aware of his injuries.
When Mapiya
and her father came back to escort Chris to the Naming Ceremony, Chris saw that
they were dressed in fancy clothes.
Mapiya wore white deerskin dress with intricate beading and decorated
shells. She also wore white moccasins
to match her dress, also woven with colored beads. Her face was painted, as was her father’s. Her hair was plaited
into two long braids with white ribbons on each end. Chris asked about the paint, and Mapiya told him that it was to
show their emotions for this night, which was in celebration of what was to
come.
Chief Aenohe
was dressed as any chief of the Cheyenne in full costume and headdress of eagle
feathers. His tall statue gave Chris the impression that this ceremony was
nothing to be taken likely. Chris got a
feeling of foreboding. Was he doing the
right thing? His mind told him this was all wrong, that he had a home and
friends and family. But his heart spoke
differently when he gazed happily at Mapiya and saw the laughter in her brown
eyes.
Mapiya looked
at the stranger she had come to know as only “the man”. He looked handsome in his Cheyenne garb. His
long blonde hair flowed freely around his shoulder from under the red
headband. The deerskin breeches and
breechcloth fit snuggly around his lower body and legs. The shirt, which was once her brother’s fit
perfectly over his shoulders. He made a
fit image of a Cheyenne brave. Her heart pounded fiercely with desire for this
man, but her mind told her that until this man had proved himself to her and
her people as deserving to be part of the tribe, she could not think about what
she felt for him.
Chris on the
other hand was appraising Mapiya. She
was the one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her white deerskin dress brought out the
darkness of her skin and dark brown eyes.
He did not know if there was someone else out there that he belonged to,
but right at this moment, he only knew that he wanted to belong to Mapiya. The
people he had dreamt of in his world of sleep were slowing fading from his
memory in the bright of reality as he looked at Mapiya.
Suddenly,
Chief Aenohe nodded to his daughter. It
was the signal that it was time. Time
for the ceremony to begin. He looked at Chris and pointed to the flap
entrance. Chris slowly and cautiously
got up from his sitting position. He
almost staggered as he felt himself become dizzy. He was still not fully healed and had a long way to go yet.
Mapiya grabbed his arm gently and led him out of the tipi into the night air.
Chris was led
through the village to the other side.
There on the other side was situated a large tipi. Much larger than the one he shared with
Mapiya and her father. He could hear
many voices coming from inside the tipi and it made him wary. Mapiya saw the look of suspicion on the
man’s face. She knew that he was on his
guard, but she wanted to reassure him that everything would be fine. She grabbed his hand gently and squeezed
it. Chris turned and cast his eyes at
their clasping hands. He then smiled at
Mapiya and squeezed her hand back. Mapiya saw the light in his green eyes and knew
that everything would be fine.
They
continued towards the tipi, Chief Aenohe, leading the way. The chief then held the flap open to motion
Chris and Mapiya inside. Chris glanced
at Mapiya once and followed her as she entered the tipi. Chief Aenohe brought up the rear of their
group.
Once inside
the tipi, Chris found it bright, in contrast to what he saw outside. Many of the tribe were there and the
children, although were not allowed to ring the circle of the large fire that
blazed within, laid on the ground, peeking under the tipi. At the furthest end of the ring of fire sat
three elderly men. Mapiya explained to
Chris that these were the wise men of the tribe. Her father then walked across and took his place next to them. Next to him was his son, glaring hard at
Chris. Chris ignored him. He had seen hate in men’s eyes before. He could not remember when or where, but he
remembered that look. He also knew that
he had never backed down or let their hate put fear into him and he would not
now.
Chris and
Mapiya were motioned to sit at the end in which they were closest to. Mapiya helped the injured Chris sit down and
then followed him. A young Cheyenne
woman came over to them and handed Chris a cup filled with a liquid. Chris questioned Mapiya about the liquid.
“Drink. It is part of the ceremony. It will not harm you.”
“What is it?”
“Herbs, roots
from certain plants. Drink,” Mapiya
insisted.
Chris drank
the liquid with one gulp. It burned as it went down his throat. It was fiery in his belly and he suddenly
felt light-headed. He turned to Mapiya
and saw that she was smiling. He took
it as a good sign.
Chief Aenohe
then started talking. Chris did not
know what was being said, but it he knew it must be a type of ceremonial
speech. Once Chief Aenohe’s speech was
finished, the people started singing and the drums started beating.
Chris felt
strange. His vision was swimming and it
was hard to concentrate. He grabbed
Mapiya’s hand and squeezed hard.
“Do not fear,
man. You are safe. The people are singing of your coming, of
your place among them. There is no need
to fear.”
Chris looked
at Mapiya and nodded. He did not
understand what was going on, but as long as she was here he felt that he was
safe.
Abruptly the
music and singing stopped. All eyes
turned to Chief Aenohe. He raised his
arms into the air and said something in Cheyenne. Chris tried to focus on his voice since he could not understand
what he was saying, but he was losing his ground quickly. His eyes felt tired, but he knew he had to
stay awake until it was over.
Mapiya saw
the confusion on his face and said, “My father is telling the people that you
are re-born. You are Cheyenne and you
will become part of his family. You
will replace the son he had lost to the white man years ago in the Black
Hills.” Chris stared at her, taking in
the words. Mapiya continued. “He says that you came when the sky was
black and the rain and thunder was starting.
He says this is when he and I saw you, one who should not have been
alive but was. He says your name will
be . . .” But Mapiya words were cut off as a shout in Cheyenne came across from
them from where Mapiya’s brother sat. ó'kôhóme was screaming something and
Chief Aenohe and Mapiya were yelling back at him. All of the people were shouting in the tipi. Mostly at ó'kôhóme. He in turn yelled back and them and then
stormed out of the tipi, glaring at Chris before he left.
“What was
that all about?”
“My brother
is a foolish man. Don’t not trouble
yourself. He will not do you any harm
as long as you are of the people.”
“Why does he
hate me so, Mapiya?” Chris asked, trying to keep from blacking out from
whatever they had given him.
“Because you
are still learning about how to be Cheyenne and do not understand that we do
not speak of the dead, I will tell you this time. My older brother was killed by white men. White men who were greedy for the yellow
stones of the Black Hills. My people killed these men and we were not sad as
they. . . died. My father and mother mourned for my older brother for a long
time. He was next in line to be Chief,
if he had proved himself. But he never
did. He died too young. My brother,
ó'kôhóme does not really remember him, but he honors him greatly. He does not want a white man to take the
place of his brother. He fears that my
brother’s memory will fade. But my
father and I know it will not.”
Chris could
see the sadness in Mapiya’s face and eyes.
She did know her older brother and remembered him. He hoped that there were family, out there
somewhere, that he had who would remember him as well.
It was then
that Chief Aenohe started speaking again.
“My father is
telling the people that your new name is Emo'ôhtavo vo'e,” translated
Mapiya. “In your tongue it means, “It
is Black Cloud, a meaning to my people is Black Storm.”
“Black Storm. Say it in your tongue again.”
“Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e,” she said softly, touching his cheek gently.
“Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e,” repeated Chris. “I like it.”
Immediately,
the people in the tipi started to repeat the name in a chant. Over and over again. Chief Aenohe then came over to Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e, knelt down next to him and took his right hand. He pressed Chris’ hand open and then took out a knife. Chris was about to react, but Mapiya told
him not to fear.
“This is the
final part of the ceremony,” she clarified as her father took the knife and
sliced his palm. Her father then sliced
his own palm and watched as the blood flowed freely. He then placed both his and Chris’ palms together, saying
something in Cheyenne. Then he released
his hand and stood up, to step back from them.
“My father
has now mixed your blood with his. You
are now part of the Cheyenne people and part of my family.” Mapiya smiled
widely at him. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e as he was now called, watch as the people came
and touched him, making him welcome among them. For the first time in weeks, he felt relaxed and happy. Yes, he could be happy here among these
people. He felt tired suddenly. His head slowly fell to rest upon Mapiya
shoulders just as the feast was about to begin. Someone was passing some type of stew around, but he did not stay
awake long enough to get some. He was
asleep quickly and Mapiya then gently lowered him to rest upon her lap. She gazed at the sleeping man. He needed rest and tomorrow was the first
day of the rest of his life.
Nathan had
heard a soft whisper of a sound. He
looked up from his bedroll to find Vin sitting straight up and cradling his
head in his hands. Nathan got up from
where he was and walked over to the suffering tracker.
“Bout time ya
woke up.”
“What
happened?”
“Josiah is
what happened.”
Vin looked at
Nathan in disbelief. But then it came
back to him and his face turned from one of disbelief to one of shock and then
to one of anger.
“He hit me!”
“I’m afraid
he did, Vin.”
“He hit
me! That sonabitch!”
“Now,
Vin. Ya cain’t blame it t’all on
Josiah. We all had a part in it,”
responded Nathan, holding up his hands, trying to calm him down.
But Vin would
have none of it. He was angered that
they had stopped him from fulfilling his promise to Chris to find him. He was also angry with himself for letting
his guard down and giving Josiah even a chance at stopping him from completing
his mission.
Nathan
watched Vin as he saw his anger and anguishes at not being able to finish his
quest. He knew that if Vin continued
the way he was that he would not last to finish what he started.
“Listen,
Vin. We were all worried about ya. We came to a decision that we ain’t gonna
let ya die.”
“I was not
going ta die, Nathan. I was tryin’ ta
find my friend!”
“Ya was not
gonna do it killin’ yaself, ya understand?”
The
conversation now awoke the others from their slumber and brought the one man on
guard duty back over to the camp. The
other three men stirred from their sleep to sit up in their bedrolls. Josiah walked over from his post to kneel
down next to Nathan and Vin.
“Listen,
Vin,” started Josiah. “I’m sorry for
what I did. But I did to save you. The Lord will forgive me my transgression
against ya because I did it out of caring for a friend.”
Josiah’s
speech did not quench Vin’s anger. He
still fumed at the thought of his so-called friends’ decision on how he should
run his own life.
“Listen, Mr.
Tanner. You might be wasting your life
for naught. We still do not know if Mr.
Larabee still exists on this earthly plane.”
“Ezra, if you
don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna shut it for ya,” growled Buck as he got from
his position on his bedroll and walked over to the others.
“Ezra don’t
mean anythin’ by it, Vin. He just ain’t
as opti…opti… What is that word you
used Ezra?” said J.D.
“Optimistic,
my dear young child.”
“Yeah,
optimistic as we are. And I ain’t no
young child! I’m a growed man!”
“Settle down
now, J.D.,” said Buck, wrapping up his bedroll and starting the fire going.
“We’ll find Chris. I know we will.”
Vin eyed Buck
as he made the statement. Buck saw
Vin’s look and winked, a big smile coming to his face. Vin smiled shyly back, letting his anger
slowly dissipate. He knew that Buck
understood what it meant to them both to get Chris back.
The others
watched the scene and then nodded their understanding. They also knew that things would not be same
until they found Chris Larabee. Dead or
alive, preferably alive, needed to put this to an end and either make their
group whole again or at least to know that they start to mourn their loss.
Vin hated
being helpless and that was what he was at this moment. Helpless to find his friend like he
promised. He was starting to feel the
way that Ezra was feeling, like it was hopeless. Like they would never find Chris, alive or dead. But then he saw a look in J.D.’s eyes. Those eyes spoke volumes. They said that he would give up looking for
his hero and he expected Vin to follow suit.
Vin bowed silently and knew he could not give up on Chris now. Chris would not give up on him and he was
determine to find him or bring his body back to Mary Travis. One way or the other, he was not going back
to Four Corners until it ended.
Nathan turned
to face the others and said, “J.D.! Go
get some water. Ezra, get off ya butt
and go and see if ya cin find some firewood.”
He then
turned back to face Vin and said smiling, “I’m gonna fix ya somethin’ for that
headache and jaw ache of yaurs.”
Vin grinned
sheepishly back at him.
“I ain’t
forgettin’ this Nathan, Josiah.” Vin
lifted his head up higher to look over Nathan’s shoulder and said, “And I ain’t
forgettin’ the rest of ya too!”
At this
comment, all the others, except Nathan, raised their eyes to the sky as if to
say they did not hear a word, and walked off to start the morning camp.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8
Next day, a few miles south of the Box Canyon
The six men had
been riding hard all day. They now were
still, sitting on their horses, as the young tracker knelt down on the ground
examining the trail they had been following for two days now.
“Well,
Vin? Ya got somethin’?” questioned
Buck.
“I think
so. Look’s like some horse prints,
especially one in specific that I knowed.”
“Chris’?
Pony?” asked J.D.
“Think
so. One of the horses left front hoof
print got a mark of a half moon crested in it’s shoe. Chris had Pony shod with a broken shoe, which had a crest of half
moon. He meant to get it fix before he
left, but I think he forgot. The only problem is that he is riding with a herd
and several unshod ponies. Seems ta be
about an hour ahead of us.”
“Unshod
ponies, Pard?”
“Yeah, Buck.
Unshod.”
“Yep.
Cheyenne. Probably Southern band. They
way their horses are loaded, I’d say renegades.”
“How are you
so confident, Mr. Tanner?”
“Cause they
ain’t stoppin’ ta rest. They riding
hard and light.”
“Do ya think
they got Chris?” asked Josiah.
“Don’t
rightly know. The main lead and two end
horses looked as if they were carryin’ only one man a piece. See how the hoof
prints are only a little deeper than the others? If’in they were carryin’ more than one man per pony, then it
woulda been heavier here. The ponies
they were herdin’ in the middle, looked too light ta be carryin’ anyone.”
“But they
mighta knowed where Chris is, don’t cha think?” asked Nathan.
“Might,
Nathan. I think we if ride hard, we cin
catch up to ‘im ‘fore they reach the box canyon area,” Vin said, mounting on
Peso quickly.
“Well,
boys. Let’s ride,” exclaimed Buck, as
he urged his mount into a run. Vin and
the others followed the tall lawman’s lead and headed north towards the Box Canyon
area.
The six
peacekeepers had caught up with the renegade Cheyenne within the hour, just as
Vin had predicted. Luckily for them,
the Cheyenne had decided to water and feed the horses they were herding. Vin and the others had been lying in wait on
the high hill above the valley before the canyon. Vin had shown them a short cut and they came out ahead of the
horse runners. They were now trying to
determine how to approach them. The
Cheyenne had two men on guard and Vin knew it would be almost impossible to
sneak up on them. He motioned for them
to move back down the hill, crawling low on their bellies, back the way they
had come.
Once down the
hillside, they discussed their plan.
Vin had told them that they could not sneak up on them, so the best way
was that he would go down and try to negotiate with them. They did not want their horses. They just wanted to know where Chris was and
to get his horse Pony back. There was
no way they wanted to start a war.
“That my dear
Mr. Tanner, is the most preposterous plan I ever heard.”
“Ezra, shut
up,” said Buck, now annoyed. “Vin is
the only one with as much know-how about these type of things and we best let
‘im do his job.”
“Mr.
Wilmington, you must think me superficially innate, but I am only thinking of
everyone’s well-being when it comes to these heathens.”
“What did he
say?” asked J.D.
“I think he
just said that we must think he’s selfish and that he thinks we’re asking for
trouble dealin’ with the Cheyenne,” responded Josiah.
“Well, ain’t cha?”
“Am I what,
Mr. Dunne.”
“Ain’t cha
selfish?”
“Mr. Dunne, I
take much insult to that statement.”
“Yeah, yeah,
yeah. But ain’t cha?”
“I will
ignore your ignorant remark, Mr. Dunne.”
“Now, would
you too cut that out!” exclaimed Nathan softly. “Listen, the longer we stay arguin’ ‘bout this, those Cheyennes
could be long gone and so would our chance ta find Chris.”
“Nathan’s
right. Now, ya’ll just need ta do what
I say, okay?”
“Very well,
Mr. Tanner. My life is in your hands.”
“Thanks for
the vote o’ confidence, Ezra. Now
listen up. I need ya ta keep an eye on
them. If’in it looks like it ain’t gonna work, then I want ya’ll ta come in
shootin’, got it?”
“Yeah. We got it, Vin. If I see one of yaur hairs out of place, I’ll put a bullet in ‘em
so fast they won’t know what hit ‘im.”
“Thanks for
the back up, Buck.” Vin then started
removing his gun belt and knife. He
took his medicine bag in one hand and started walking up the hillside to go
down and talk with the renegades.
From the hillside,
on their bellies, the others watched as Vin slowly and cautiously walked over
to the Cheyenne braves. The two guards
saw him immediately, but they also saw him holding his medicine bag out in
front of him as a sign that he just wanted to parley.
They let him
proceed further into their group without interference, but they were both wary
of him. Vin kept calm, knowing that to
panic was to sign his own death. Vin
knew which one was the leader of the group by his dress and his statue. When he reached the brave he knew to be the
leader he stopped in front of him.
In Cheyenne,
he said, “I have come to make talk. I
have not come to harm you or your people.”
The young
brave stood tall. His chest was bare, as were the others. His dark face was streaked with war paint, a
sign that they were not on a peaceful mission.
His dark brown eyes looked at Vin up and down, appraising him of his
weaknesses and strengths. He knew this
white man was no ordinary white man. He
knew the way of the Cheyenne, of the people.
He had dealt with his people before and he knew they ways.
“We do not
fear you, white man. It is you who
should fear us.”
“I do not
fear any man,” replied Vin in Cheyenne.
“I have come looking for a brother who is lost.”
“We do not
steal white men, strange one. It would
serve no purpose. But we would kill him, if we saw him.”
“Then you are
saying that you did not see a white man with blonde hair in your travels?”
“Why would I
lie to you? We came for horses and that
is what we have,” answered the young brave angrily that the man would doubt his
word.
“What about
that pony over there?” Vin asked pointing to Chris’s horse, Pony.
“The black
one? We found him wandering. Horses that roam free are any man’s.”
“Did it have
a white man’s saddle and pack?”
“What does
that matter? Any white man who would
leave his horse to wander freely do not deserve him.”
“But it was a
white man’s horse. My brother’s horse.”
“You do not
look like a fool, strange one. If it is
your brother’s horse, then he does not walk on this land anymore.”
“I believe
different. He is alive. And I want his horse. It is mine by right.”
“You would
fight me for this? Among all these
young Cheyenne warriors? Alone?”
“Yes. If it is the only way.”
The young
Cheyenne brave nodded and bowed his head in thought. He looked to Vin and then to Pony.
“You would
die for a horse?”
“No. I would die for my brother.”
The young
Cheyenne did not understand this white man, but he understood the honor of family
and blood. He nodded and turned to one
of the other Cheyenne warriors near the horses. “Bring him the black one!”
The other
brave was confused, but did as he was told.
“Thank you,”
spoke Vin, nodding to the young leader.
“Do not thank
me too quickly, strange one. Your
brother still may not walk the land.”
The other
Cheyenne handed over Pony’s reins to Vin.
He grasped them as if they were a lifeline to Chris. He then turned around and started walking
back the way he had come.
“Wait,
strange one!” called the Cheyenne warrior.
Vin turned
around and watched as the Cheyenne approached him slowly. When he was near enough to Vin, he leaned
over to his ear and whispered, “There
is talk that a white man lives among a Cheyenne tribe near what you call the
Box Canyon. It is said that he has no
memory of himself and came among the
people. It is said, that he is now
part of the Cheyenne people and that he is re-born one of us. There are those who do not believe this and
say he is still a white man. But there
are those of us who would kill anyone who would try to take him from us.”
Vin stared
hard at the Cheyenne. The one question on his mind came instantly. “What is this man called?”
“He is called
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. The Black Storm.”
“Why are you
telling me this?”
“As I said
before, strange one. You are not
foolish,” and that was all he said as he walked back to his men.
Vin watched
him go. His heart held concerned and
excitement at what the Cheyenne had just told him. But what bothered him the
most was why he had told him at all.
He slowly
proceeded up the hill again, dragging Pony behind. It looked like that they just might find Chris, but in what
condition, he did not know. He had to
get back to the others. They could not
go barging into a Cheyenne camp and demand for this person. He did not even
know whether it was Chris at all. They
needed a plan. He hoped they could
think of one and figured it had better be fast. He had the strange feeling that Chris was in deep trouble.
When Vin
reached the other side of the hill, he found the others were waiting for him,
standing next to their mounts.
They all
smiled in relief as they saw Vin bringing Pony with him. Of course Pony’s saddle and pack were gone,
but to Vin that did not matter. He had
proof that they were on the right track to finding Chris.
“Well, Pard,
what happened?” asked Buck as he ran over to him.
“They found
Pony runnin’ wild in the Box Canyon.
They let me have ‘im, but not the saddle and pack.”
“So that means
Chris is alive, doesn’t it?” asked JD excitedly.
“Not
necessarily, my young friend.”
“But it
doesn’t mean he’s dead either, Ezra,” pointed out Nathan.
“Ya right,
Nathan. It don’t. I got ta talkin’ ta their leader down
there. It seems that there’s this
Cheyenne tribe camped not far from the Box Canyon. He told me of a white man that was found by this tribe and that
now he lives among them.”
“You think
it’s Chris?”
“I don’t
know, Buck. I just don’t know. He didn’t describe ‘im, so I don’t know if
it is Chris or not. I only know that
they said this white man could not remember who he was.”
“Amnesia?”
“I guess,
Nathan. I just know that Chris’s horse
is among a bunch of Cheyenne renegades and then I hear this story about a white
man livin’ among ‘em.” Vin lowered his
head and started thinking about the other part of the Cheyenne’s words.
“But that
ain’t all, is it, Vin?” queried Josiah.
This brought Vin head up to look directly at the others.
“No, Josiah,
it ain’t. He also said that there are
people of the tribe that would kill anyone who tried ta take ‘im from them.”
“I knew this
was too good to be true.”
“Ezra, . . .”
started Buck.
“I know. I know.
Shut up,” answered Ezra, rolling his eyes.
“So if we go in
there and it is Chris and try ta take him outta there, they’ll kill us, right?”
“You got it,
Nathan.”
“So what do
we do?” asked J.D. concerned now.
“I ain’t
figure it out yet. We gotta think. We go in there without thinkin’ and we could
start a war.”
“Well, I
figure we got a couple days before we reach the Box Canyon. Let’s hope we come up with somethin’ soon,”
said Buck. He was not relishing a war
with a bunch of Indians, but he liked leaving Chris there even less.
“We got at
least a couple more hours of daylight.
Let’s see how close we can get to the Box Canyon area,” stated Vin as he
mounted Peso.
The others
followed suit, with J.D. taking Pony’s reins.
They continued to the follow the trail that would lead them to the Box
Canyon area and hopefully, eventually to Chris Larabee.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During the
next two days, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e, the newly found Cheyenne brave, started to
slowly heal. He still had pain in his
shoulder and back, and sometimes when he got up too fast his head ached
fiercely. Mapiya, in the morning before
off to do her work for the day, would take care of his needs. She would then
leave and Emo'ôhtavo vo'e would left alone in the tipi to rest and heal and to
dream of the strangers he could not put names to. He would dream of the young man with long brown hair, dressed in
buckskin. The tall dark-haired
mustached man with the smiling white teeth.
The black man who welded knives and healed the sick, and the large older
man, who seemed to spout words he did not understand, and call him
brother. The young man who looked seem
brimming with life and the man in the red jacket who always seemed to have a
deck of playing cards and a twinkle in his eyes. Lastly, he would dream of a
blonde-haired woman, with a young boy with hair of the same color, waving at
him from afar. These faces troubled him and he tried so hard to remember who
they were that he often woke with a headache.
By mid-day
Mapiya would return from her daily chores and she would sit with him for a few
hours every day teaching him about how to be a good Cheyenne. She would also teach him to speak as a
Cheyenne and they both found that he was a quick learner.
After the
beginning of the third day, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e could converse in Cheyenne with
remarkably little flaws in his sentences.
It was almost like he was a clean slate, eager to be written on. Mapiya attributed to his personality. A man who never gave up on any task given
him. Chris, or Emo'ôhtavo vo'e,
contributed to the fact that he belonged nowhere and wanted very badly to
belong here.
“You have
learned well, Black Storm,” said Mapiya in Cheyenne nodding in approval at the
end of their daily session.
“Nea'eše,”
replied Chris.
“You are a
good, hoestónéhe.”
“Yes,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. hoestónéhe. It mean
student. Soon you talk Cheyenne well.”
“You are a
good, . . . how do you say, teacher?”
“Vovéstomósanéhe.”
“You are a good,
Vo..vestomo..masanee.”
Mapiya
laughed, hiding her smile behind her hand.
“Close
enough, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.”
“What did I
say?”
“It was not
teacher. Try again. Vovéstomósanéhe.”
“Vo..vestomo…sanee.”
“Good. Now try this. Xamaevee'e.”
“Ho..ma..veck.”
“No.
Xamaevee'e.”
“Ho..ma..ve..a..ck.”
“Yes. What mean?”
“Tipi.”
“Yes,
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.”
“And my new
name is E..moh..tavc..vorc.”
“Yes,”
replied Mapiya, grabbing his hand and rubbing it softly.
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e,
or Chris, looked into Mapiya soft brown eyes.
He thought he could drown in those brown pools if he stared long
enough. He lifted his right hand and
touched one of the ends of her braids, twirling it within his fingers.
“Émo'onahe,” he said leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips.
Mapiya did
not pull back from him. This is what
she had wanted and longed for. She
wanted this man to touch her, to hold her, to love her. She would never pull back from his
embrace. Mapiya returned his kiss, putting
her hand on his shoulder gently as not to bring him the pain of his wound.
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e put his hand gently around her waist, pulling her closer to
him, making his body hot with the want of her. Mapiya’s nearness had driven
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e’s dreams of the other people from him. His eyes now only saw Mapiya, a beautiful
Cheyenne woman. Someone he could
definitely fall in love with.
Without
warning the door flap came open. Chris
and Mapiya quickly broke away from each other, both simultaneously turning
towards the door. Chief Aenohe came
walking into the tipi. He looked at
both Chris and Mapiya, his eyes settling on them both in suspicion.
“Pévevóona'o,
Nâhtona. Pévevóona'o, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.”
“Pévevóona'o,
Neho'eehe,” replied Mapiya, quickly getting up from her kneeling position.
“Pévevóona'o,
vehoo'o Aenohe,” replied Chris, lying down upon his pallet bed.
“I think it
is time that you should be up, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e” said Chief Aenohe, eyeing Chris
emphatically.
Mapiya
glanced at her father angrily. “But
Neho'eehe, he is not well.”
“He is well
enough, Nâhtona. It is time that he act
Cheyenne. White men lie around like
weak women. Cheyenne do not. Hurt or no,” came Chief Aenohe’s commanding
voice.
“Your father
is right, Mapiya. If I am to be
Cheyenne, then I must act Cheyenne,” said Chris determinedly.
Mapiya did
not like it. She thought her father was
being harsh. This man was not use to
the hard ways of the Cheyenne. It would
take time before he would earn his place among the Cheyenne braves.
But Chief
Aenohe would hear nothing of it. This
man was his adopted son and as his son, he would be Cheyenne. Nothing less, nothing more.
“Néhoveóó'êstse!”
exclaimed Chief Aenohe. He was not
polite about it. It was not the
way. He must be strong so that his
newly adopted son would be strong. But
he did not know that Chris Larabee was already a strong person.
Chris
understood this command in Cheyenne well.
He placed his moccasins on his feet and his deerskin shirt onto his back. He then slowly rose from his pallet of furs,
wincing in pain as he felt the pull on his recently healed shoulder and
back. He did not cry out, for he knew
it would be a sign of weakness and would not be accepted by this great Cheyenne
chief. Chris stood in front of Chief
Aenohe, standing tall and still.
Although his head felt as if it was three sizes too big, he held his
head up high, knowing to show pain was not the way of brave Cheyenne.
Mapiya
noticed the way Chris stood and how he held his head starkly still. She knew he was in pain and it angered her
more that her father would make Emo'ôhtavo vo'e do this when he was not well,
but it also brought her pride that he showed no weakness to her father in his actions.
She knew, if she interfered it would only disgrace him in front of her father
and the other men of the Cheyenne. She
could only watch, as the man she had feelings for stood in front of her father
in pain.
“Mónêhé'še?”
asked Chief Aenohe.
“Heehe'e,”
replied Chris slowly.
“He is
learning well, Nâhtona,” said Chief Aenohe, smiling and nodding his head in
approval.
“Come. Let us begin your teaching.”
Chief Aenohe walked through the door flap. Chris was about to follow behind when he stopped in front of
Mapiya. He gently kissed her once and
went through the flap. Mapiya smiled to
herself delighted at the prospect of seeing him again when the day’s lessons
were done. She then went about her work
within the tipi. She knew they would be
hungry once they returned from their own work and it was her responsibility to
see to it that her knew found love and her family were fed.
Vin and the
others had been riding for three days now, going from village to village. The others did not realize that so many of
the Cheyenne were spread out around the area of the Box Canyon. But Vin explained to them that the white man
and his progression had moved them out of their original homeland and into
other lands where they could feel free.
Vin also explained to them that not every village they had went to was
just Cheyenne. There were Kiowa and
Arapaho who were allies of the Cheyenne.
He did not limit their search to Cheyenne camps only. He knew the more they knew about the
situation before they found Chris, the better their plan would be.
They had stopped
to rest not far from the entrance of the Box Canyon. Vin had spoken to several of the natives in the area, but none
knew about the white man who was now Cheyenne.
“Well, what
do we do now?” asked J.D.
“Don’t
rightly know, J.D. I guess it’s up ta Vin
ta tell us what we need ta do,” replied Nathan. He was worried about the tracker. Since they had left Four Corners, Vin was taking care of himself
as Nathan would have liked. Whenever
Nathan broached the subject, he was silence by Vin’s discreet act of mounting
Peso and riding further off in front of the others. It was becoming frustrating
for Nathan as the mule-headed tracker would ignore his warnings and his
consultation.
All eyes
turned to Vin, who was busily looking around the area. Vin did not answer their unasked
question. He had not given up on
finding Chris and he knew he was close.
Very close to finding him. He
could feel it in his bones. He finally turned to look at the others who were
waiting patiently for him to say something.
“Well, J.D.,
I figure there’s only one place left we haven’t looked yet. It’s not far from here. ‘Bout two days ride. I remember it when I was among the
Comanches. There’s a place near the Box
Canyon area that sometimes the Cheyenne make inta their summer camp. It weren’t far from here, but sometimes
things change. I’m hopin’ they haven’t.
They might still be there iffen the army ain’t bother them none.”
“What if our
illustrious leader has absconded from the vicinity?” questioned Ezra.
“I don’t
think so, Ezra. Chris is out
there. And I knowed he’s close. I cin feel it,” responded Vin, seeming to be
somewhere else.
“Hmmm. Now what is that tickles your fancy, Mr.
Tanner?”
“Uh?”
“I said, what
is it that has acquired your imaginative sight.”
“Huh?”
“I think Ezra
is trying to say is what cha looking at, Pard,” said Buck smiling.
“I rightly
don’t know. It’s just that I seem ta
know this place. Just cain’t place it
just yet.”
“It’ll come
to you, brother. Just give it some
time. Remember, the Lord provides for
all and all who look, shall find him.”
“Thanks,
Josiah. But I think I need ta do more
in order for the Lord to help us,” Vin slowly drawled out.
“So where ta
now, Vin?” asked Buck, also looking around the canyon area. He did not like the waiting. He thought they move on. This place gave him
the creeps. It was a good place for
some natives to set up a trap.
“Well, I say,
we go towards the canyon and see what’s on the other side. I remember there bein’ a Cheyenne camp there
long ago. It’ll take us at least two
days ta get ta the other side and probably another day to reach the camp,” he
answered determinedly.
“Three
days. Three more excruciating days in
this horrid heat.”
“Sorry,
Ez. But it’s the best that I cin think
of.”
“My dear, Mr.
Tanner. I hope that when we find Mr.
Larabee and that you hold up to your pledge.”
Tanner and
the others stared at him confused.
“Kick his
sorry ass for making me miss my soft civilized berth.”
Vin smiled at
Ezra’s comment, while the others just laughed out right.
“Ezra, ya are
an amazin’ man,” said Nathan, still laughing from his comment.
“Yeah,
Ezra. I’d say Chris is got a lot ta be
sorry for once ya catch up ta ‘im,” laughed J.D.
“Let’s ride,
boys. The longer we stay here the
longer it’ll take us ta get where we’re goin’,” said Vin mounting up.
The others
followed his lead, their spirits much better than a few moments ago. They all knew they would find Chris and when
they did, he was getting the ass kicking of his life. They just hoped that they got the chance.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e spent the day learning of what it takes to be a Cheyenne by his newly
adopted father, Chief Aenohe. He learned
about many things and as he did his knowledge of the Cheyenne language grew.
The day
started for the Cheyenne people before the sun rose. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e learned
that building the fire was the first task to be completed. While the women went to get the water from
nearby, the men and boys went to bathe before dawn arose. The women made the morning meal and the
young boys herded the horses back into camp.
After the
morning meal, announcements for the day were made by the old crier of the
people who circled the camp on a horse around the camp. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e had
heard this crier this morning, and he had awoke to the announcement of a new
Cheyenne among the people. His name was
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e and he realized that he was the new Cheyenne. He had a place
and people to belong to now and they belonged to him. It was official as the camp crier yelled his announcement
throughout the village.
As they
walked, Chief Aenohe explained to Emo'ôhtavo vo'e that it was the older men of the
tribe responsibility of making bows and arrows, smoking pipes and other things
that would be used by the people. It was also their duty to teach the young on
the ways of being a good Cheyenne and it was the young warriors’ duty to
provide protection and food for the camp. He had also explained that when he
and Mapiya had found him, they found white men guns within his pack. Chief Aenohe was curious as to the fact
whether or not Emo'ôhtavo vo'e could use this instruments well.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e stared down at the ground, his head hung low and said in Cheyenne, “I do
not know. I cannot remember who and
what I was before I became Emo'ôhtavo vo'e.”
Chief Aenohe
was a wise man and believed that although Emo'ôhtavo vo'e could not remember
who he was or what he was before he became part of the people, he still might
retain his skills, if he had any.
Instead of
voicing this to Emo'ôhtavo vo'e, he just grunted and motioned him to follow him
to the other side of the camp.
They ended up
where the horses were kept in the camp and once there, Chief Aenohe, approached
a large paint that had a pack on his back.
Chief Aenohe grabbed the pack, laid it upon the ground and rolled it
open slowly. As the rough cloth
material was moved out of the way, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e saw a handgun and a
rifle. Without thinking about it, he
picked up the handgun and the rifle. He
knew the handgun was a Colt 45 also known as a “Peacemaker”. It had a bone grip and mark on the grip.
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e traced the mark on the grip and it felt familiar in his right
hand. The rifle had a brass frame and
he knew it was a Winchester 66 also known as a “Yellow Boy”. He did not know how he knew these things, he
just did.
There was
also in the pack a small pocketknife and a black gun belt with silver conchos
on it. He ignored these and started
holding the .45 in his hand as if it was an old friend.
Chief Aenohe
watched in appreciation as Emo'ôhtavo vo'e twirled the gun within his hand
several times and quickly righting it in a firing position. “It seems that my son is good with this
weapon.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e turned to look at Chief Aenohe, his mind returning to the here and
now. “Heehe'e,” he replied in Cheyenne
and then quickly in english, “But I still do not know how I know.”
“It will
return in time, my son. Do not let it
trouble you,” voiced Chief Aenohe, also in english.
“Show me,”
said Chief Aenohe in Cheyenne, pointing to a tree not far from them. “Show
me.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e nodded and within a blink of an eye, pulled the trigger, the bullet
landing in the middle section of the tree.
“That is
good. That is good. You may have to. But you should never use it against
another Cheyenne.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e then thought of ó'kôhóme, the chief’s son and Mapiya’s brother.
“But what if
another Cheyenne wishes harm to me?”
“No Cheyenne must
harm another. If there is a grievance,
then it is settled by the tribal elders.
If it is still not resolved, then they fight it out in the Cheyenne
tradition. Not the white man’s way.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e knew that with ó'kôhóme he might
not get that chance. He knew the young
Cheyenne hated who he once was. He had to prove to them all that he was now
Cheyenne and that the whites meant nothing to him. But he also knew that once
he did that, he could never go back to who or what he was. Did he really want
that? Without a name, he was nobody, but at least here he was somebody. But what if he should remember who he
was? Would he go back to that life or
stay among the people who had saved him and cared for him? It was all too confusing. He decided he would deal with it when the
time came.
“It is
understood, my father.”
“Let us
continue. There is much you should know.”
And they turned to walk back through the camp, all the while, Chief
Aenohe explaining to him the ways of the Cheyenne.
J.D. was on
watch when Vin came back from one of his scouting patrols around the Box Canyon
area.
“Rider
coming!” he yelled to the others.
They all went
to where Vin was just entering the small camp and dismounting from Peso.
“So, Vin,
what cha find?” inquired Buck, walking slowly over to him.
“I think I
found him,” said Vin, out of breath. He
had been riding hard to make it to camp before dusk.
“What?! Where?!” came Nathan’s questions.
“Hold ya
horses. Let me get my horse settled and
we’ll sit down and talk about it,” he said dissuading them from further
conversation.
He then took
Peso reins and walked him over to the other side of the camp where the horses
were tethered, while the others moved slowly back into the inner sanctuary of
the camp.
When Vin had finished
with getting Peso settled for the night, he then walked over and placed his
saddle next to the fire of the camp. He
also placed something else out of view behind the saddle. He sat, leaning on the saddle, as Josiah
passed him a cup. He grabbed the cup
offered by Josiah and took a sip. It
was some of Josiah’s awful coffee and
but it was worth it. It felt good going
down and he leaned further back against the saddle, relaxing. The others sat around the fire also,
patiently for Vin to say something. Of
course, Vin said nothing and it did not look like he was going to, so Buck, who
was the most impatient of them all said, “Okay, Vin. Spit it out! I cain’t
stand this waitin’ any longer.”
“Yeah. I guess I should. I was up ridin’ around the canyon area and I met up with a group
of Arapaho movin’ towards their winter camp.
The Arapaho and the Cheyenne are friends and they trade a lot with each
other. I figure, maybe, they woulda
knowed somethin’ about this white Cheyenne.”
“And?”
“And, Ezra,
they did. They said he’s livin’ with a
tribe of Cheyenne not far from here. I say about maybe a day’s ride.”
“But how do
ya know it’s Chris?” asked J.D.
“I don’t
exactly know, J.D. But his description
fits Chris, except he’s dressed as a
Cheyenne.”
“But, my dear
Mr. Tanner, you still have not explained this fortuitous discovery?”
“I was about
ta tell ya, if ya stop and listen first, Ez.
The man they described first of all had shoulder-length hair, green eyes
and is on the lean side.”
“That sounds
like Chris,” chimed in Buck.
“Yes,
brother. It does. But it also can be a lot of other men, “
piped in Josiah.
“I knowed
that. But listen, he also said that
this man was found on the rode through the Box Canyon leadin’ from El Dorado.”
“Well, that places
him in the same place as Chris would be,”
stated Nathan.
“Yes. But that still does not explain how you are
so indisputable in your assessment of the evidence?”
“What did he
say?” asked J.D.
“He said how
can Vin be so sure. I’d like to know
that for myself also,” replied Josiah, raising an eyebrow in Vin’s direction.
“Cause,
Josiah, they also said that he was riding a black which the were told was sold
to some Cheyenne renegades and I found this not far from where they said he was
found.” Vin quickly pulled out from
behind his saddle a black hat. They all
stared at the hat as if it was something offense, but they all knew that it had
belonged to one Chris Larabee.
The others
tried to grapple with the realization of what Vin had found. Chris’ hat was in front of them and there
was no doubt that Vin knew what he was talking about.
“So, what do
we do now?”
“Well,
J.D. I got ta talkin’ ta those Arapahos
for a long time. They be good
people. They also were nice ‘nough ta
warn me about lookin’ for ‘im. They
said in no uncertain terms that if we wanted ta live, we’d stopped lookin’.”
“And what did
ya say, Pard?”
“I told ‘em
that it was not in our plans, Buck.”
Buck lowered
his eyes and looked at the ground below him.
When he looked back up at Vin, Vin could see a sadness that ran deep
into the big man’s heart.
“What iffen
he don’t wan’na come with us, Vin? What
we gon’na do then?”
“Buck, Chris
don’t knowed what’s good for ‘im. It’s
up ta us ta make the decision for ‘im.”
Buck could
see the determination in the young tracker’s face. He knew that whoever tried to stop this man from finding his
friend and bringing him home was going to be in for a rude awakening. But Buck
also knew that Chris, amnesia or no, would not be made to do anything that the
did not want to do. He wanted to make
sure that the young tracker was not riding into something that would break his
heart. Buck knew Chris for too long a time
to be fooled that amnesia would change the man’s character or deep down who he
was. So, Buck pushed the point with
Vin. “But that doesn’t answer the
question, Pard.”
Vin gave Buck
a glared that would have made Chris envious.
He then stood up and said. “I ain’t talkin’ about this anymore, Buck,”
and walked away into the night.
Buck was left
with the others to contemplate tomorrow’s choices and tomorrow’s actions. Or rather Vin’s choices and actions and he
did not like it one bit.
Ezra was not
the type to interfere when it came to Chris and Vin. He, liked the others, knew
that the bond between the two men went deep.
Deeper than either would care to admit to anyone outside their
circle. But this time Ezra determined
that interference was needed. He liked
the young tracker and he did not like to see him running headlong into a
situation that would create the already volatile rift that had already made
itself known among the group.
He followed
Vin over to where he was busy feeding Peso a cut up apple from his pack,
settling the horse down for the night.
As he got only a couple of feet from where the young tracker stood, he
found that Vin had heard him and turned to face him.
“My, my, Mr.
Tanner. What sensitive ears we have?”
“The better
ta hear ya creepin’ up on a man and ta shoot ya, Ezra, iffen ya get my
point.” He then returned to feeding
Peso.
“I have
receive that message quite clear, Mr. Tanner.
I hope I am not intruding.”
“Nah,
Ezra. Ya ain’t intrudin’ on anythin’,”
Vin replied, still feeding Peso the apple pieces.
“I’d like to
say, my dear compatriot, that I think you should listen to Mr. Wilmington.”
Vin turned
quickly around and faced Ezra with a glare that made Ezra realize he might have
overstepped his bounds.
“Listen,
Ezra. All of ya need ta stay out of my
business, ya here.”
“Mr. Tanner,
I am only pointing out that what Mr. Wilmington tried to communicate to you is
sound advice. I do believe that if we
find Mr. Larabee alive and well that we must come to a decision on whether or
not to force him to join us. Without
his memory, he may not be the same man that left Four Corners a few months
ago.”
Vin stared
hard at Ezra. His anger was beyond
consoling, but somewhere inside of him, he knew what Ezra said might possible
be true. He did not want to believe it,
but he was also a realist when it came to Chris Larabee.
“Ezra. I understand what ya and the others are
tryin’ ta do. But ya don’t understand
when it comes ta me and Chris. I woulda
knowed if Chris don’t wan’na be found.
I think Chris doesn’t know what he wants right now.”
Ezra head fell
in disappointment. He thought he might
have gotten through the young tracker, but it seemed he had also failed.
“But, . . .”
came Vin’s voice again. Ezra raised his head at the word. “Iffn I find him and he doesn’t want ta come
with us, I promise, I will leave ‘im be.”
Ezra cast a
dubious look at Vin.
“I mean it,
Ezra. Iffn we find Chris and he ain’t
the Chris we knowed anymore, then I’ll be the first ta say leave ‘im be.”
“I hope, Mr.
Tanner, that you remember that when the time comes,” was all that Ezra replied
and walked back towards the darken camp.
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?
===============================================================================================================
That night of
the third day, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e found himself very tired. He and Chief Aenohe had traversed everywhere
within the camp and even outside it. He
had discovered that he could ride as well as shoot. He found he was also good with horses and Chief Aenohe was
pleased with his knowledge and progress. The chief was so pleased that he gave
him a horse of his own as a welcoming present.
It was a beautiful white horse.
It was also considered a very high honor for a brave to ride a white
horse. It was believed to be a spirit
horse among the people because of its rarity. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e took the gift,
thanking his father for such a great gift. He had not seen such a beautiful
animal before or at least he did not remember if he did.
What Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e did not see while accepting the gift from Chief Aenohe, was that his
adopted brother and son of Chief Aenohe, ó'kôhóme was over to the side,
watching with hatred and envy. He did
not like this vé'ho'e that had came into his life,
stealing his father’s attention from him.
He was the real son of Chief Aenohe.
Not some tsêhésevé'ho'e from nowhere.
He would put an end to this lie and he would put an end to the thorn in
his side, whether his father liked it or not.
This man did not belong here.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e sat cross-legged near the fire, as Mapiya served him and her father their
evening meal. During this time, Mapiya
kept eyeing him secretly when her father was not looking. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e saw
this and it made his heart beat in his chest with anticipation. He did not know if the Cheyenne tradition
would permit an adopted son to wed his adopted sister, but he needed to find
out. He was increasingly becoming madly
in love with Mapiya, but he also knew he did not want to offend his new people.
If Chris had
known, he would have been delighted to find that Mapiya had the same
thoughts. She knew there was no
Cheyenne tradition against the wedding of an adopted son. But there was a Cheyenne tradition of a long
courtship and the brave who would have her must prove himself as a warrior and
a protector of the family, the tribe and the Nation. Mapiya knew that Emo'ôhtavo vo'e knew none of this yet. They had not reached the lessons concerning
marriage or courting in the Cheyenne tradition. She decided his new lessons
will be on this subject, but she had to be sure that he felt the way she
did. The women of the people had told
her that a woman must always guard her chastity and it was only a matâhaa'e who would have relations outside of marriage. She being a wise woman and the daughter of a
chief knew that it was in particular important that she uphold these
traditions.
The looks
between his daughter and his adopted son did not go unnoticed by Chief
Aenohe. He was a wise man and he did
not become wise by burying his head in the ground. It did not bother him that these two felt something between
them. But he also knew that in order to
be together, these two would have to fight insurmountable odds. The fact that he was white was not what worried
the great chief. It was the fact that
if one day his memory came back, who would he be then. Would he be Emo'ôhtavo vo'e or would he be
some Indian-hating white man. He
lowered his eyes and continued eating his meal in thought.
“Where is
ó'kôhóme? I have not seen him since the
day of the ceremony.” asked Emo'ôhtavo vo'e in Cheyenne.
Mapiya looked
up from her meal and said, “He is probably in his home, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e. He has his own wife and tipi not far from
here.”
“I thought he
lived here?”
Chief Aenohe
smiled. “He is old enough to have a
wife and a home of his own. You will
too in time.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e glanced at Mapiya. The wife and
home he wanted was here within this tipi.
He just hoped that she would want him.
Chief Aenohe
did not miss the glance and said, “Tomorrow you and I will join the warriors on
a hunt. It is time that you prove your
worth to your family and your people.”
“What do we
hunt?” asked Chris, concerned.
What Chris
saw in the chief’s face did nothing to calm his feelings. He knew the chief was up to something. He did not think it was something that would
harm him, but he hated surprises.
“Father? What is it that we will hunt?” he asked in
English this time.
“Hémêseestse!”
was all he said to Chris. He then turned
to Mapiya and said, “Néhmanoxêstse!”
Mapiya stood
up and went over to the water bag that was held on the tipi wall and poured her
father some into a wooden cup. As she
stood over him, handing the cup, looking at him in concern also. He ignored her. He took the cup and drank
the liquid inside down in one gulp. He
then put the cup on the ground and went back to eating his meal.
Mapiya knew
this was her father’s way of closing the subject. He would not talk about it until he was good and ready. He reminded her so much of Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e. They both stubborn in their own
right.
Mapiya sat
down on the floor of the tipi and resumed her meal. There was nothing either of them could do at the moment. Whatever her father had in store for Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e, Mapiya could only pray to Ma'heo'o that Emo'ôhtavo vo'e would succeed in
whatever her father had planned for him.
The morning
came quickly for the Cheyenne tribe of Chief Aenohe. Before dawn, the people were already about their daily activities.
The children were scattered about the area running through the camp. The women
of the camp were busy with their daily chores of the homemaker. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e
had watched earlier as some of them, including Mapiya had walked off to find
wood for their fire and roots for medicinal purposes. The older men were
sitting near their respective tipis, making bows and arrows and pipes. Some of
the younger men were sitting by an older man, listening to his tales of war and
bravery. Chris smiled. He did not know if he could match the old
man’s tales since he could not remember anything from his past.
As he stood
there, listening to the old man talk, he felt a stabbing pain in his head. He immediately doubled over from the pain,
kneeling on the ground. When he looked
up from his position through watery green eyes, he saw an elderly Indian man,
holding out his hand towards him. The
man said, “We welcome you with hostility.” He stared open-mouthed as the old
man smiled gently at him. He knew this
man, but he could fathom from where.
Suddenly, he
was back among the Cheyenne and the man was gone. “Where did that come from?” he thought to himself. “Do I know this man? Was he someone to me?” He could not
remember. He knew there was something
important about the man, but it would not come no matter how hard he tried to
think. Disappointed and disgusted at
his memories, Chris finally stood up and looked around him. The older man and the young braves were
gone. He did not know how long he had
knelt there.
Mapiya came
walking from where she and the other women were gathering wood for their
home. She saw Emo'ôhtavo vo'e standing
by the tipi. His face showed pain and
lost. She quickly walked over to him,
shifting the wood she carried on her back and the roots in the skin bag that
she held in her hand. She grabbed him
gently by the elbow, letting him acknowledge her presence before speaking. “Emo'ôhtavo,” she said using the pet name
she had for him. “Népévomóhtâhehe?”
Chris,
startled out of his thoughts, turned to Mapiya. “Yes. I am well, Mapiya.”
He smiled gently at her.
“You look as
if you had seen a spirit,” stated Mapiya worriedly.
“I am
fine. You promised to finish teaching
me,” he stated, grabbing her hand.
“I will.
Estsehnêstse!” she said pulling him back inside the tipi. He followed behind her, laughing all the
way, but the memory of the old Indian man still lay in the back of his mind.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e and Mapiya spent the rest of three hours in the morning talking about
Cheyenne family tradition and relationships. Emo'ôhtavo vo'e was very much
interested when Mapiya discussed the Cheyenne courting ritual and the ways of
possessing a bride. Mapiya was excited
about how interested Emo'ôhtavo vo'e was when they discussed the these things.
At one point
in the lesson, Emo'ôhtavo vo'e put his finger to Mapiya’s lips, silencing her
and keeping her from uttering another word.
“Nemehotâtse,”
he said. Then he kissed her gently upon
the lips. Mapiya did not stop him. She had wanted this also.
But once they
pulled apart, she said, “Nemehotâtse.
But for us to be together we must keep with the tradition of our
people.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo’e nodded that he understood and would do nothing to soil their relationship
or his relationship with the people.
“Then tell
me, Mapiya. What I must do to have you
as my own?”
Mapiya then
beamed at him with happiness. “I will
tell you, Emo'ôhtavo.”
Mapiya
explained to him all the ways of the courting a young maiden among the
Cheyenne. There was so much protocol and
Emo'ôhtavo vo'e did not know if he could remember everything exactly. But Mapiya had faith that he would
succeed. She could not think otherwise.
As they were
about to go deeper into the things that Emo'ôhtavo vo'e should say to her
father and the people, the door flap came open and in walked a young Cheyenne
boy that they both knew as Eše'heo'ôhnešese.
The young boy
looked at Emo'ôhtavo vo'e and then at Mapiya.
He said to Emo'ôhtavo vo'e, “Chief Aenohe wants you to come now.”
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e glared at the young boy with his green eyes. The young boy quickly left as he had come, wanting to be far from
the green-eyed Cheyenne with the glare that could kill.
Emo'ôhtavo
vo'e kissed Mapiya gently on the cheek and stood up. “I will be back,” he told
Mapiya. “Keep a watch for me.”
“I will
Emo'ôhtavo. Do not worry.”
“I am not
worry. I am only in love,” and he
walked out of the tipi to whatever fate Chief Aenohe had planned for him.
Vin had
finally stopped as soon as they got to the end of the Box Canyon exit. He knew the others were not far behind, but
he needed time alone. Time to think
about what he was going to do once they had found Chris. He had told Ezra that he would do what had
to be done in the event that Chris would not come back with them. But he also knew that Chris should be given
a choice and that they should at least let him know what he had lost when his
memory was erased.
Nathan and
Buck were the first to reach him. They
had been secretly talking about him since they had started through the
canyon. They did not like what was
happening to him. Usually, Vin was the
level headed one, but this was just like the Charlotte incident. Nathan and Buck agreed that they did not
think Vin was thinking clearly and when it came to one Chris Larabee, they knew
he was not thinking at all.
“Vin, do ya
really know where we’re goin’?” asked Nathan, impatience in his voice.
“I do,
Nathan. Trust me.”
“But Vin,
we’ve been travellin’ for two days now and ya been ridin’ us like a
whirlwind. Don’t cha think we should
rest and talk ‘bout what our next steps gonna be?” injected Buck.
“Nope.”
“But Vin, we
ain’t seen nothin’ ‘round here. Not
people or animals.”
“Listen Buck,
ya cin stay here and I’ll scout ahead.
Ya’ll set up camp and I should be back before dusk,” replied Vin.
“Vin, ya
ain’t doin’ Chris any good by killin’ yerself!”
“Nathan, I
told ya and the others ta stay out o’ my business! I cin take care of myself!”
“I don’t
think so, Pard. Since Chris disappeared
ya haven’t been the same.”
Vin glared
angrily at Buck.
“Buck, don’t
cha care anythin’ ‘bout Chris?!” The
words were out before Vin could take them back.
Buck stared
at him, hurt by his words. He cared
about Chris a lot. He and Chris were
friends before Vin ever heard of anyplace except Texas. He had stood by Chris through thick and
thin, bad times and good. He picked up
the pieces when Chris had fell apart after the death of his wife and
child. He could not believe that Vin
would accuse him of not caring about Chris.
Vin realized
what he had done. He had not meant to
hurt Buck. It was the furthest thing
from his mind. He was just so damn
frustrated at not being able to find Chris.
He knew he should not take it out on the others. They were just trying to help and he knew
they worried about him just as much as they did about Chris. They were family.
“Buck, I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean it. Ya know how I cin get sometimes . . .”
“Yeah,
Pard. I understand. I feel the same way about Chris. But we also got ta face the truth. We’re ridin’ like the devil ta get ta ‘im
and we don’t know if he wants ta be found or will want ta come with us. We’re riskin’ life and limb for ‘im. I just hope he wants it.”
Vin grasped
what Buck was saying. He was worried too
that when they found Chris, he was not the Chris that they had come to know and
love. He was afraid he would loose the
one person who he felt such a close kindred to and who understood him.
Vin could
only nod as a lump formed in his throat.
He had made Ezra two promises and he at least planned on keeping one of
them.
“Okay,
Buck. Nathan. Let’s do this. I’ll scout
a little further ahead. I promise I’ll
be back before dusk and by then I should be able ta tell ya somethin’
more. How’s that?”
Nathan
scrutinized him dubiously. Buck only
sighed in exasperation. But then they both relented.
“Alright,
Vin. But ya come back before dusk, ya
here me?”
“I do,
Nathan,” he said smiling in relief.
But then Buck
put in, “I think Josiah should go with ya.”
Vin cast an
eye in disbelief at them.
“But Buck, I
cin move faster alone.”
“Ya either
take Josiah with ya or ya wait until all of us cin go,” stated Nathan,
matter-of-factly.
“Damn! I cain’t believe ya!”
“Yes or no,
Vin?”
“Damn ya
sorry-ass hide, Bucklin! Okay,
okay. But iffen somethin’ happens, I’m
blamin’ both of ya!”
“Yeah, yeah,”
said Buck, turning towards the others as they came upon them. “Listen up,
fellers. Vin’s goin’ ta scout ahead and
we gonna wait for ‘im here. Josiah, I
want ya to accompany our friend here.”
He then turned and smiled devilishly at Vin. Vin only glared back angrily.
“Hey, ya
still tryin’ ta get that Larabee glare down pat, ain’t cha?”
Vin glanced
at him with anger. “Why?”
“Cause son, ya
still have a way ta go,” said Buck laughingly.
“Very funny,
Buck. Very funny. Ya just wait until I get Chris back. Then ya won’t be laughin’ so much,” and he
rode off towards the north, with Josiah trying to catch up.
Nathan and
Buck watched as they got further away, shaking their heads in disgust. This was getting to be a long and hard
journey. They needed to hurry up and
find Chris before it cost them more than they could spare.
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.
Black
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