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Late swallows swooped down through the lilac night. The sun was already being replaced in the sky by a bright full moon as the first stars pricked the darkening night.
A huge, roaring fire crackled and roared in the center of the Crow village where the entire Whistling Water Clan had gathered in a wide circle around a pole. A bearskin with red-painted claws was tied to the eastern side of the pole.
Mary Beth sat amid the women on one side of the circle, her thoughts on this afternoon’s food preparation. She had enjoyed being a part of the group getting ready for the exciting nig
ht. She had gladly volunteered to prepare the corn, which even now gave off its wondrous scent from the great copper pots at the edges of the fire.
She had shucked a lot of corn in her day. She suddenly missed her garden in Kentucky, where the corn would be ready to be harvested. She had known that she wouldn’t be home in time, so she had given her friend Maddie permission to take the corn and can it for her own family.
Maddie had said that when Mary Beth and David returned home, some of those home-canned jars of corn would be waiting to see them through the long Kentucky winter.
When she arrived home, the jars would already be in Mary Beth’s fruit cellar along with other goodies that she knew Maddie would prepare for her. There would be canned green beans, pickles made of her cucumbers, stewed tomatoes as well as tomato juice, and even grape jam made from the luscious grapes that grew on an arbor behind her house.
It seemed so long ago now, that discussion of canning and taking care of Mary Beth’s precious cat, who would by now have had a new litter of kittens that she would never hold and cuddle in her arms.
There had been tremendous change in Mary Beth’s life, much of it sad. But one sweet thing had come with all this change . . . her feelings for Brave Wolf and his for her.
And now there was someone else sweet in her life. She smiled as she looked at the lovely woman who sat beside her. It was Dancing Butterfly, the young and vivacious maiden who had shunned Mary Beth when she’d brought food into her chief’s lodge that day.
But as Mary Beth had diligently worked with the women most of this afternoon, preparing the various kinds of food for the Bear Song Dance celebration, her eagerness to help had drawn the admiration of many of the women, among them Dancing Butterfly.
Dancing Butterfly had sat beside Mary Beth, first offering to show her how to roll the special balls of pemmican so that the meat and fruit were more equally distributed in the ball. Mary Beth’s answering smile and thank you had opened up a brand new world between two women who seemed destined to be special friends.
Mary Beth didn’t even feel awkward sitting among the Crow people without Brave Wolf at her side. Strangely enough, she felt as though she actually belonged there.
She anxiously awaited the beginning of the dance, for Brave Wolf had told her that he, his people’s chief, would have a role in it.
“Is it not a perfect night for dancing?” Dancing Butterfly asked as she clasped her hands together on her lap. “Mary Beth, look at the moon. The First Maker has given its silver sand to us tonight instead of clouds for our celebration.”
“It is so very lovely,” Mary Beth said as she turned her eyes up to the moon. She could not help wondering if her son might be gazing up at that same moon this very moment. She had held him on her lap many nights as they sat on their swing on the front porch, looking up at the moon.
As they had swung slowly back and forth, she had told him stories. She could even now hear his giggle.
“Mary Beth, the moon does many things for us,” Dancing Butterfly said, drawing her away from thoughts of a son she missed with every fiber of her being. “It not only gives us light at night, but also shows children how to dream.”
“Yes, to dream,” Mary Beth said, swallowing hard as she again thought of her David and what sort of dreams he might be having at night. She hoped they weren’t nightmares. She hoped he was alive to dream.
When Mary Beth noticed how Dancing Butterfly’s voice trailed off to whisper, she thought the other woman must be responding to her distraction. She had not been all that attentive to what Dancing Butterfly was saying to her.
She turned to apologize, then realized she had not been the cause of Dancing Butterfly’s sudden silence. The other woman was staring at Brave Wolf’s mother’s tepee. Mary Beth questioned Dancing Butterfly with her eyes.
“I wish Night Horse could sit among our people beneath tonight’s moon,” Dancing Butterfly blurted out. “I wish he could enjoy tonight’s festivities as much as you and I will enjoy them.”
Dancing Butterfly swallowed hard. “I wish he was not ill,” she murmured. “But I mainly wish that he had never left our village to ally himself with Yellow Hair and his evil soldiers.”
Mary Beth was stunned by Dancing Butterfly’s attitude toward Night Horse, especially her openness, when everyone else avoided the mere mention of him. “Why would you care so much about Night Horse?” she asked, looking at Pure Heart’s tepee. The glow of the lodge fire inside could be seen through the buffalo-hide cover, silhouetting Pure Heart as she sat vigil by her son’s side.
Mary Beth had been told that Night Horse’s health had improved, that the rattling in his lungs was gone. When he slept now, it was in quiet peace.
“Why?” Dancing Butterfly repeated, absently running her fingers over a long row of turquoise beads that were sewn up the front of her doeskin dress.
She wore a necklace made of the same turquoise beads, as well as a matching bracelet. Her voluminous black hair hung loose and flowing down her perfectly straight back. A headband with turquoise beads sewn onto it held her hair back from her lovely face.
“Yes, why,” Mary Beth said, hoping she wasn’t pressing too hard for answers. It was so nice to have a friend among Brave Wolf’s people.
“Except for his mother, and perhaps his brother and me, Night Horse is disliked by everyone else in our village,” Dancing Butterfly said softly. “I understand that, because he did so much wrong to our people. I cringe at his misdeeds, yet memories of better times with him still cling inside my heart.”
“Was he special to you?” Mary Beth asked.
