FAITH
FAITH (after an idea by Nesciri)
Author's note: I want to thank Nesciri for letting me write her idea. I only hope I do it justice. I also want to thank her for all the help and encouragement along the way. Nesciri, this story wouldn't be here without you! Thanks again. Sharon
Kiowa Territory, 1847
"Little Buck, time to rise." The voice
of Red Bear woke him from a deep and restful sleep. He rolled over and sat up
to see Red Bear motioning for him to come sit with him on the thick hides piled
together that formed a soft and inviting bed. Little Buck hurried to crawl over
and sit in front of his older brother with his back to him. Red Bear began to
undo the tangles in his long hair and braided it quickly.
"Today there is much to do, Little Buck. I
must leave you this morning and lead the others in the buffalo hunt. I want
you to stay with Song Bird today." He felt Little Buck stiffen before he
hung his head down and nodded quietly. Red Bear reached around Buck and picked
his chin up with his fingertips so he could continue braiding. "Now, it
will be a good day today, brother. Listen to Song Bird and do not stray far
from her. She will watch you while I am gone, and when I return, you can help
with the horses." Red Bear's voice was soothing and gentle with his little
brother who had so recently lost his mother. It had only been two months since
her death and now Red Bear who had not yet taken a wife, had a little one to
raise and care for.
Red Bear also carried the burdens of the tribe on
his shoulders. He had finally attained the status of Kiowa War Chief and he
did not take this duty lightly. He would only have these few moments with his
brother before the duties of daily life grew too strong to be ignored. He knew
life was going to be hard for his brother in the tribe, especially now that
their mother was dead, and so he took this time to talk to his brother and help
him prepare for the day. Little Buck needed a dose of courage before starting
each morning. He was scared and lonely since his mother died and Red Bear knew
it. He adored his little brother and would do anything to make sure Buck knew
he was loved and protected.
The only person Buck had now was Red Bear, and he was often forced to leave the boy with Song Bird, who Red Bear was to marry the following spring. "So, Little Buck, try and be brave today and I will tell you about the hunt when I return." Red Bear stood and took his brother's hand to help him up. He placed his hand on Buck's shoulder and the two walked outside to find Song Bird.
"White Owl, get up now!" The voice that
called to the young boy was harsh and high-pitched. "Lazy, ignorant child!"
A rough hand pulled back the buffalo hides from the small body. "Do you
want everyone else to be up before you? Must you always be last at everything?"
The same unforgiving hand reached down and grabbed the boy by his arm and half-dragged
him to his feet. "You need to listen to me. When I tell you to get up,
you do it." The woman's voice was hard much like her demeanor. She quickly
dressed White Owl not caring if she tugged an arm a little too much or caused
his head to be roughly shoved back and forth. When she was finished she gave
him a push outside the teepee.
Her behavior changed when she and White Owl approached
a group of women and their children. "Here is White Owl, ready for the
day," she almost sang. Her eyes swiftly scanned the others and she quickly
calculated to whom she needed to be especially polite to this morning. She saw
Song Bird with that little no-good half-breed. She knew her own son, White Owl,
was stronger and swifter than that little scrawny thing, but he was also the
half-brother of the chief. People were always going out of their way to praise
him. Well, she needed to act as if she liked the boy even if he should have
been done away with when he was born. It was one thing for the other children
to tease him, but as an adult she needed to show restraint. "Running Buck,
you look well this morning." Her voice was sweet but she tried to hide
the jealousy and resentment in her voice. Red Bear hardly ever looked twice
at White Owl who she knew would one day grow to be the bravest warrior in the
tribe, certainly overshadowing the present chief.
"I am fine this morning, Yellow Crane,"
Buck answered politely. He kept his eyes downcast and quickly scurried back
to sitting with Song Bird. So, the chief's little brother was a cowardly runt
after all! He was scared of her just like all the other brats around here. Well,
if he was going to play the little idiot he was, she was not going to waste
her time on him.
"White Owl has been practicing with his bow,"
Yellow Crane proudly announced to the others. "He can now hit the Old Tree
every time," she continued, naming the target that Kiowa children had practiced
on for generations. She kept her long fingers wrapped tightly around her son's
shoulders giving him a hard pinch so he would know to keep his mouth shut. His
aim was poor and he didn't seem to have the strength to pull back on the bow
to even send his arrow the proper distance. This basic lack of coordination
on the part of her only child brought her an immense amount of grief but she
was not going to let it show. If White Owl could not keep up with the other
boys, she would at least act as though he could.
Yellow Crane stood tall against the skeptical stares
of the other women. Life had been too hard to shrink away now. Her father had
died when she was young and her mother had been a clinging old harridan who
only had time to belittle her. She then had been contracted in marriage to a
man she did not love. He did not even have a high rank within the tribe but
the two women had to have someone provide for them. Marriage did not ease the
burdens she carried but had simply increased them. Her husband grew old and
weak and they had depended on the charity of others to provide them food so
that they would not go hungry. She had been forced to humble herself first to
her mother then to her husband, but no more would she grovel at the feet of
others.
Yellow Crane had no choice back then, but today
was a different matter altogether. Yellow Crane had seen how unfair the spirits
could be in doling out their favors. Regular prayer and devotion had done nothing
for her and so she was more than willing to turn to other means to achieve her
dreams. The Kiowa religion had failed her and so she created one that better
suited her. Now, Yellow Crane invented her own ways to make peace with the spirit
world and get its occupants to do her bidding. She was frequently seen gathering
rocks and bits of bone and fur to bring back to her teepee. Every morning she
could be seen sitting alone and fingering these items while praying to unseen
specters.
She would make her own destiny now and she did not
need the other women to befriend her. If she were forced to be polite and respectful,
she would, but it would only be to advance her own position. Yellow Crane had
to fight to keep from laughing at the distrustful looks the women were throwing
at her. They might call me a witch but I have more power than that. A witch
simply asks the spirits to do her bidding, but I have learned ways to manipulate
them.
Yes, it would only be a matter of time now before her son would rise in the ranks and bring her the glory that she knew she deserved. She only had to wait and overcome a few obstacles. Red Bear's presence loomed largest in her mind. Bribes and trickery would not work against him. He would require careful manipulation and with the help of the spirits she was sure she could take care of him. He also doted a little too much on that brother of his. Her eyes swept back to Buck who was playing with some other children under Song Bird's watchful eye. If Red Bear had his way, that spoiled mongrel would always be chosen first over her own child. Yes, there were only a few that stood in her way and she would take care of them.
Running Buck glanced over where Yellow Crane stood, boasting about her son. He didn't like her; in fact he was a bit scared of her. There was a rumor in the tribe that she was a witch and that she could point at people and they would fall down dead. And she talked to spirits. Running Buck wasn't at all comfortable with the spiritual world of his people. He knew from the stories told around the fires and from Red Bear that spirits could punish or test you and if you fault them, they could be downright mean. Of course there were stories of how spirits had aided and helped the Kiowa, but Running Buck wasn't sure they applied to him. After all, the spirits were both spirits in their own right and the spirits of the ancestors. And all of them were, or appeared to be, full-blooded Kiowa. Running Buck had never heard of a half-blood spirit. And from the way the living was treating him, he didn't expect the spirits to be any different, so he had a long time ago decided to keep as far away as possible from those close to the spirits and their world and abide the rules. Even if it sometimes was very difficult.
He had tried to express his fears and doubts to Red Bear, but his older brother had not understood. He had simply told him that when he got older and had proven himself a true Kiowa, he would see that the spirits didn't look to the color of the skin. But Running Buck hadn't been convinced. And although it felt a bit humiliating to hide from one of the women, he felt it would be much safer. Running Buck tried to engage himself in one of the games while he could feel Song Bird's watchful eyes following him. It felt safe with her there. He glanced over to her just as she, content that he was all right, continued with her work. Running Buck knew that she didn't like Yellow Crane anymore than he did because of her witchcraft and he was happy she was going to marry his brother. Apart from her being kind to him, he thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the village and he would take pride in being able to call her family. He almost wished that she and Red Bear could get married sooner. A soft homemade ball caught him on the arm and in the next second he joined the others in a chase as it rolled away among the tepees, Yellow Crane temporarily forgotten.
