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It just did not seem real that this was happening, although Thunder Horse knew it was inevitable that he would soon say a final good-bye to his ahte. He had already lost his beloved ina to death. The loss of his mother had been hard to accept at the time. Just as hard as it was now to await his ahte’s dying breath.
But Thunder Horse had to remind himself that he still had the love and support of his people, as well as his sister Sweet Willow and nephew Lone Wing, and now, ah, his beloved, sweet Jessie.
Soon he would take Jessie as his wife and fill that gap in his heart that had waited for such a woman as Jessie to fill it with her love and devotion.
Ho, soon he would marry this woman and would have children born of their love. He had much to look forward to, those moments he would share with his family, always with the presence of his ina and ahte inside his mind and heart.
Suddenly he heard a low gasp.
He saw his father’s eyes take on a strange sort of peaceful look as he took his last breath of life. It was not the usual stare of death, but instead a look of peace.
“Ahte, oh, Ahte, how I will miss you,” Thunder Horse cried, fighting back tears, for he knew that he must face his people soon with the horrible news that they had lost the man who had been their leader for so many years.
He anticipated the heartache of his people even before telling them, for he knew how much they all had loved Chief White Horse.
Gently he reached out and closed his father’s eyes, then embraced him one last time.
After he made the announcement that all were expecting, yet dreading, he would prepare his father’s body for burial.
He had a promise to fulfill, one that his father had made to the White Chief in Washington. As soon as Chief White Horse was dead and interred in the sacred cave of the Fox band of Sioux, the band would move on, to where the rest of their band awaited them.
A reservation.
Oh, how Thunder Horse hated that word and what it stood for and meant to his people. It meant the loss of their freedom to live as their band had lived from the beginning of time.
They would no longer be free to do as they wished when they wished, for they would be on land assigned them by white eyes, not their own land.
But the White Chief in Washington had promised Thunder Horse’s father that their life on the reservation would not be so very different from how they lived today.
They would be free to hunt when they desired. They would have a vast stretch of land on which to hunt, and where they could plant seeds that would grow food for their people.
He had already arranged that seeds were set aside for the long journey. After a while, once they had settled in the Dakotas, their gardens would be filled with food, just as they were here in this village.
Ho, if the White Chief in Washington had not spoken with a forked tongue, the reservation would not be like moving to the pits of hell.
Thunder Horse took one final moment with his father, inhaling his familiar smell and feeling the familiar skin of his cheek as he laid his face against his father’s. He then stood proudly tall over the fallen hero, taking strength from his father one last time before doing a deed that broke his heart.
“Ahte, I will follow your teachings until I am an old man who will leave the leadership and my own teachings to a son of mine,” Thunder Horse said thickly. “I promise you that I will never be lax in my duty as chief to our people, nor in my duties to my children or wife.”
It was as though he heard his father say, “I know that you do right in all things. Go in peace and with much love in your heart, my son, as you spread the news of my passing. Tell them that I am happy as my soul has departed to the land of ghosts, and that I already see your mother, my beloved wife, with hands stretched out for me. Go, my micinksi. Go.”
Having truly felt as though he had heard the words of his father inside his head, Thunder Horse shook his head quickly, then turned and followed his father’s last bidding.
After stepping outside, he found that all who lived in his village were there, awaiting the news. Word had spread quickly that their elderly chief was taking his last breaths of life.
Eyes looked anxiously back at Thunder Horse, among them his woman’s. Jessie stood with his people as one of them already.
“My ahte’s soul has departed to the land of ghosts,” Thunder Horse announced. “He walks with those now who departed before him.”
There was much wailing and crying as his people clung to each other.
Jessie went into Thunder Horse’s arms. “I am so sorry,” she murmured as Sweet Willow came, too, and stood at her brother’s side, Lone Wing beside her.
“I have duties now that must be done quickly,” Thunder Horse said, setting Jessie away from him by placing gent
le hands on her shoulders. “His burial must be carried out swiftly, for the White Chief in Washington was promised that as soon as Father passed to the other side, what was left of our Fox band would go to join our fellows on the reservation.”
“I know,” Jessie said, tears burning at the corners of her eyes.
