cry over everything.
As the sun rose the next morning, Shining Moon returned with the horse. He tethered the horse to the pole outside the mud home and sat down.
When Sleeping Bear came out in the morning, he stood. “Come with me, my son,” he spoke as they walked towards the bushes. The rest of the pueblo was just waking, dogs barked and fires were rekindled. Standing by a tree, Sleeping Bear began to speak.
“For the next month you may come and see my daughter in the evening. You will sit by our fire and eat with us. You may not touch her or speak to her directly. Any question you have you may ask Mother or Grandmother and they in turn will ask Flying Bird who will answer them and they will answer you. You will not be with her in camp nor sneak with her to the trees. This is my wish, this is my demand. You will at all times treat my daughter with respect and as your equal. She will be the staff in your life and the keeper of your soul.” Sleeping Bear turned and looked at the young man and placed his hand on his shoulder. “You will make me proud.”
Sleeping Bear began to walk slowly and Shining Moon strode beside him. Around them the earth began to awaken. Birds began to sing and a warm breeze started to blow. Sleeping Bear began to speak once again. “We are nothing but men, my son, who must keep up with our world and learn how to survive. Right now the world is nothing but love to you. There is the song of my daughter in all you see and do. But this will pass as all passes. We are but moments of time. Little pieces of life that are but darting flames. Look around you,” and Sleeping Bear spread his arm out and circled the land around him. “This is the true mother, this is the tree, keeper of your soul. A woman is a companion but the land is our life. You must never forget this.” And the old man stooped over and took a handful of the dry earth and held it out to Shining Moon. “This is my present to you, this is my wish for you and my daughter. Let your love be tempered by the mother earth. Let your hearts never sorrow for each other and hold always to the truth between yourselves.”
Shining Moon held out his hand and took the handful of dirt. He would put it in a pouch and place it with his other medicine things.
Two nights later Shining Moon sat in the home of Sleeping Bear. Flying Bird was in the corner busily cutting deer liver to bake over the fire. Mother and Grandmother walked busily around the room clicking their tongues and feeling warm inside. Sleeping Bear talked on and on of his youth — hunting trips into the mountains. Hard winters. The first coming of the Spanish and how they had driven the Spanish back to the south. But in so doing they had gained the horse. Shining Moon tried to listen but his eyes darted from the face of the old man to the sight of his love who worked trying to quell the beating of her heart with her love so close. The old man was quiet for a moment, Shining Moon spoke.
“Mother, will you ask Flying Bird does she feel well?”
Mother looked at Flying Bird, “Are you well, my daughter? A man in the house wishes to know.”
Flying Bird looked at her mother. “Tell the man I am quite well and am to be married soon.”
Mother looked at Shining Moon and repeated what her daughter had spoken.
During dinner the women sat quietly in the corner as the men ate in silence. Dinner over and a pipe shared, Shining Moon stood. “I must leave. Thank you for dinner, and, Mother, would you tell Flying Bird there is nothing in life as beautiful as she?” Flying Bird blushed and was silent.
Outside Shining Moon looked at the night sky. All across the heavens was the face of his love. Sleeping with his horses outside the pueblo, Shining Moon could not help but think of his love and their first night to come. He would lay her down softly in the marriage home. With trembling hands he would undo the thongs that held her dress together. He could feel her breasts within his palms and smell the scent of her womanhood as her body desired him. This night he did not sleep well but tossed and turned, dreaming of the charms of his bride and the touch of her skin.
But all of this was before the medicine man’s dream. Shining Moon rose early one morning to try and catch a glimpse of Flying Bird going for the morning water. The pueblo was already awake and a nervousness was upon the people. By noon the chief had called all the leaders together and by early afternoon orders had been dispatched. The medicine man had had a dream. A dream that a great tragedy was going to befall the tribe. Over the past years there had been many tragedies. Starting with the Spanish who came and killed the people. They had been repulsed but life had never been the same. This was before Shining Moon was born, but he had been told the stories by the old ones. Since then the tribe had always been wary, always on guard from the strange brown men with their armor and horses.
In the early evening large fires were started and the warriors were painted and dancing. They would go out into the vastness around the tribe and look for danger. Finding danger the brave would ride back to the tribe and tell the chief, Black Bison. Several suns away there was a mountain with a box canyon, the sides too steep to scale by men or animals. Here the tribe would go if necessary upon word of danger and all braves, finding the pueblo empty on their return, would go there. Whatever the medicine man’s dream had been, it was a powerful one — one powerful enough to send the men out into the wilderness.
Shining Moon had been heartbroken. So close to his wedding. In the excitment of the day there had been no time to see Flying Bird, and he knew it would be no use to go to her home. Mother and Grandmother would not let him enter. Long after the fires went out Shining Moon sat waiting for the dawn and when he would ride out. He had already prepared his ponies. He would take the remaining five. They were well-trained and the ones he did not ride would follow him. He would change every day. He had been told if within one moon he did not see danger, to return. The chief was wise enough to know dreams were not always what they seemed to be.
Sitting with his horses, for the first time in his life Shining Moon was distraught and confused. He had never felt this way. There had never been confusion in his life. Was love like this — warm and happy, sad and bitter? And if so, why should that be? He sat with the night but could find no warmth in the stars.
Flying Bird lay on her hides and listed to Mother and Grandmother snoring. She stood slowly and crept from the home. She did not know that Mother watched but did not move. Outside the door Flying Bird ran to where she knew Shining Moon slept. She ran, feeling a great sadness in her heart, and as she neared Shining Moon’s fire, she could not help but cry out when she saw him. Shining Moon jumped up, hearing her cry, and they circled their arms around each other. They did not speak but each felt the warmth from each other’s body and the beating of their hearts merged into one. Stepping back, Flying Bird with a delicate finger traced the outline of Shining Moon’s lips. “My husband to be, I fear so for your safety.” Shining Moon looked into the dark eyes of his love. “I am forever safe in your love, my little one.” Then turning abruptly like a frightened deer Flying Bird ran back to her home and stole back to her bed.
In the morning when Flying Bird went to get water, Shining Moon was gone and she felt empty and alone. Mother and Grandmother in their hearts were sad for her and each prayed to the sun to watch over Shining Moon.
Shining Moon rode, his heart heavy in his chest. Around him the dry southwest air circled over the cactus and rocks. There was no warmth in his soul, no rhythm to his heart. It was as though his heart had been torn out of his chest. There was no happiness with the sunrise, no joy in the circling of the hawks or the squawking of the dark crows. But as the day passed he slowly thought his way out of his sadness. And once again he could see the sky and the birds, “My love, my love,’ he spoke to the blue sky, “You go with me in all things.”
Sitting back down by the fire, Shining Moon did not rekindle the dying flame. Already to the east the first silver darts of a new day streaked the sky. Five or six suns and he would be back with the tribe. Five or six suns and he would see Flying Bird,
