Page 41 of Blazing Hot Nights
“Why Wicapiwakan was born on the white man’s land. Why she was born to you.”
I shook my head with my hand waving for added emphasis. “No. She wasn’t born on my ranch. She was born on Blaze’s. We share a property line, but I don’t raise bison.”
“Blaze said he lost his wife to theTatanka.”
“Callie,” I said, nodding. “She was my friend. It’s been five years.”
“Make no mistake, Heaven, you have suffered not because of theTatanka.” I opened my mouth to object, and she squeezed my elbow until I was silent again. “The things that happened were not theTatanka’sfault. You have suffered because the white man tried to control a wild animal.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, my eyes downcast. “You’re right. I can’t blame a wild animal for doing what it does. That said, I can’t seem to move past what I saw that day.”
Kemimela tenderly rubbed my elbow now as she spoke. “Our people believe that the spirit of the animal, its soul, remains in the place it was born. He has gifted my people the animal, but he cannot gift us its spirit, for that remains on Blaze’s ranch. Visit the place she was born, and her spirit will guide you.”
She patted my back and stood, calling out to one of the other women in the tent. When she disappeared and left me to think about her words, my eyes closed in acknowledgment that nothing would ever be the same again.
Eleven
I pulled the truck and trailer across several parking spots and shifted it into park, glancing at Heaven in the passenger seat. She was exhausted, and her shoulder was held in that funky, unnatural position again. We had stayed at the reservation far longer than I’d expected. It was after two in the afternoon, and we’d already put in too many hours in this truck cab.
“Heaven, maybe we should get a room and rest.”
She swung her head toward me and shook it slightly. “Soon. Not right now. I need to walk around.”
I nodded once and opened the driver’s door, jumping down onto the grass. I opened her door and helped her down, then held her right elbow as we walked toward the lookout point. Below us was the beautiful, glistening water of a small lake hidden in the trees.
“The lake reminds me of your eyes,” I said, pulling her into me by her waist. “Shimmering and blue with no bottom to be found.” I kissed her temple and inhaled the scent of the outdoors and woodsmoke from the reservation. I don’t know what possessed me to kiss her there, but I did. Thankfully, she didn’t push me away.
Heaven lowered herself to a bench at the overlook. “I had to stop and take a moment to appreciate this part of the country. Look at that magnificent view.”
“It’s fantastic. I’ll give you that. I think our view earlier today was far more magnificent though.”
“Maybe. Definitely in a more life-changing way,” she agreed, her eyes pinned on the lake in the distance.
What I had expected to take a few short minutes stretched into hours when we stayed for the naming ceremony of the white bison. First, there was food that filled table after table along the pasture fence. We ate, sang, prayed, and celebrated with the tribe as though we were part of it. It only reinforced in my mind that I’d done the right thing by keeping the white bison a secret. What they did with the animal now was up to them, but the chief assured me they would protect her, even if word got out that they had a white bison. They would also protect my identity by not correcting anyone who assumed the red dog had been born from their herd. Bison are wild and migratory, so there was no way to prove where the animal had come from or that it wasn’t part of their herd to begin with. Especially since I’d removed my ear tag from the cow once she was in the trailer.
“I’m honestly so relieved to have her off my hands right now I can’t even tell you,” I said to Heaven, leaning forward on my thighs with my elbows. “I’ve been sleeping in the field and watching her day and night to make sure no one found out about her. It was a lot of stress. I’m glad she’s in a place where she will be celebrated and worshipped. They will do everything to keep her safe.”
“Wicapiwakan,” Heaven whispered. “They chose a wonderful name for her.”
“The holiest one,” I translated. “The tribal elder told me the white bison usually has several names, like Yellow Hawk Dancing Girl, for instance. He told me about a vision he had of a white bison several days before I contacted them. It told of her coming and that her name would be Wicapiwakan. That she would come by way of the white man as a gift for his people.” I shook my head and tipped my Stetson down to block the sun. “Chills went through me when he said that. Everything about today was so powerful, and I’m not super spiritual, so I can’t imagine how they were feeling. Witnessing their spirituality in such a different way than that of the western man just …” I made the “mind blown” sign next to my head and fell quiet.
“Agreed on all levels,” she whispered. “The women spent days preparing for our arrival, believing and trusting that what we were bringing them was a sign from their ancestors. No one doubted, even though they hadn’t even seen a photo of it yet. I suppose that isn’t unique to any one culture. We all practice faith in different ways. We just have different ideas about who or what our deity is. I know some of the conversations I had with those women changed me. I haven’t quite sorted all of it out yet. I suspect it will take many years before I do. I wasn’t expecting anything that happened today.”
“I was expecting to drop off the animals and leave,” I agreed with a nod as I leaned against the back of the bench. “Did you see what the women made me?” She shook her head, turning to face me. I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled it out, handing it to her.
She gasped, holding the bolo tie in her hand like it was as sacred as the animal itself. “This is hand beaded.”
I motioned at it with reverence. “Kemimela spent the last two days beading it. She knew I was from Texas and figured a tie like that would be part of my regalia.”
“Regalia?” she asked with a raised brow.
“That’s what they call their ceremonial clothing apparently—their dance regalia. Anyway, since white bison are a traditional theme on Native American beaded items, no one will question why I have that. Kemimela wanted me to have a small reminder of what happened today if I ever needed it.”
Heaven ran her fingers over the small, beaded bison that held the tie together. “The way she made the head look like the night sky that transitions into the white coat of the animal is stunning. I can’t stop staring at it. I don’t know how you’ll even wear it without worrying you’ll lose it.” She handed it back to me carefully, as though it would break like a fragile glass.
“She explained that what Wicapiwakan represents to their people is now within the beads. If I wear it only for the important events in my life, she will bring prosperity and unity to me always.” I grasped it in my hand gently and held it to my chest. “I hope she’s right.”
Heaven rubbed my back in the sunshine and kept her eyes averted, her breathing uneven before she spoke. “You could use all of the goodness and holiness they believe your animal brought them sent right back to you. You deserve to be happy again. Happy like they were today when they saw their holiest emerge in the flesh from that trailer. I want that for you more than anything else, Blaze.”
