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She looked past the cabins and saw the plots of gardens more closely than when she had ridden into the village on the day of her arrival. Now she could see pumpkins that lay in orange globes across the land. The cornstalks had browned, the harvest near.
“Do the women or men gather the harvest?” she blurted, trying to start a small conversation between herself and Susan Sweet Bird.
“The men harvest, the women make food from that which is harvested,” Susan Sweet Bird said, her voice always sounding musical in its softness. “Next to corn, the bean is the most important food plant of the Cherokee. Beans that crack open in cooking are sometimes rubbed by mothers on the lips of their children in order to make them look smiling and good-tempered. They are called laughing beans.”
“Laughing beans,” Brian Brave Walker said, more to himself, than aloud, as he thought of his very own mother telling stories of the “laughing beans.” His insides ached with a keen loneliness for his mother.
But he feared his father more than anything else on this earth, so much that he had to place his mother from his mind whenever she crept into his heart.
He . . . had . . . to . . . forget.
Lauralee looked past Susan Sweet Bird. “Brian Brave Walker, did you say something?” she asked softly, flinching when his only response was to glare back at her.
“Lauralee, the child will take to you soon, and then he will talk endlessly to you,” Susan Sweet Bird said, in an effort to apologize for Brian’s behavior. “Give him time. Who could not love you? My chief, my nephew, has chosen wisely for a wife.”
“Thank you,” Lauralee murmured. “I’m so glad to have your friendship. Without it, I don’t know what I would do.”
“My people as a whole will soon accept you, as I have,” Susan Sweet Bird said, turning to reach a searching hand for Lauralee’s face. When she found it she lay her palm against her cheek. “These things take time. Just have faith in Dancing Cloud. Then it will happen as though by magic one day that my people will look to you as one of us, instead of white.”
They walked onward.
“Is that tobacco I see in the fields?” Lauralee asked, seeing the large-leafed plants swaying in the evening breeze.
“Yes, tobacco is sacred to the Cherokee. In our language, the word for tobacco, tsala, means ‘fire to hold in the mouth,’” Susan Sweet Bird said, nodding. “It is being used even now in council. My people believe that a man’s word is bound by the sharing of tobacco, whether it be a peace treaty or a declaration of war. We also sprinkle tobacco on the fire to drive away witches or evil spirits.”
They had reached the center of the village. Lauralee stared at a larger log lodge that had been built on elevated land so that it looked down upon those who passed by it. The outside of the house had the appearance of a small mountain, its roof covered with earth.
“Is that the council house?” Lauralee asked softly. She tried to gaze into the door when she noticed that an inward fire illuminated the room.
“Yes, that is our Wolf Clan Town House where religious meetings, social gatherings, and councils are held,” Susan Sweet Bird said, nodding. “A sacred fire constantly burns in the center of this edifice. The fire is kindled atop a cone-shaped mound of earth.”
“A sacred fire?” Lauralee said, again gazing at the door, seeing nothing more than the glow from the fire. She could hear men talking. She could make out their shadows. She knew that Dancing Cloud was one of them from his virile, muscled body.
“It is said that the creator of life gave fire to the Cherokee,” Susan Sweet Bird said as they passed on by the Wolf Clan Town House. “But this was no ordinary fire. Its flames were said to burn eternally. Because of the ancient legend, the Cherokee are often called the people of fire. And in our council houses we keep a fire burning day and night. As long as the fire is lit, our people will survive. In that special fire, seven differ
ent kinds of wood are used, one for each of the seven Cherokee clans.”
“During the Civil War, did the fire burn even then?” Lauralee asked, looking at the Wolf Clan Town House over her right shoulder, wishing she were there, joining council with Dancing Cloud. She could not help but feel left out.
Again she brushed her selfish thoughts aside. She had to adjust to this, as well as many more things. She knew that she had surely only just begun to see the difference in hers and Dancing Cloud’s worlds . . . in their cultures!
His was filled with mystique.
Hers?
She did not want to think back to what hers had been for her before she had met Dancing Cloud.
“During the white man’s war of greed and power the sacred flames at times smoldered, appearing to be extinguished, but again burst forth with still a brighter blaze.” Susan Sweet Bird sighed heavily. “The ceremonial fire of full-blood Cherokee now burns brightly. Those who have come into our village today in an attempt to disrupt our lives will see that the word of our chief is final in that the Wolf Clan Cherokee will not leave their mountain, ever.”
The sound of low, angry words behind them drew Lauralee around. Her lips parted in a slight gasp when those who had come for council today were leaving in a huff. It was obvious they were disgruntled with Dancing Cloud for having rejected their offer. They surely knew him well enough to know that he walked in the same footsteps of his father and his grandfather before him and that his word was final in all things among the Wolf Clan Cherokee.
Lauralee watched the men who were dressed in neat suits that white businessmen wore as they mounted their horses quickly and rode away in a gallop from the village. She turned slow eyes to Dancing Cloud and found him walking toward her, a grim expression on his face, his dark eyes heavy with an agitated determination.
When he reached her he silently framed her face between his hands. Their eyes momentarily held. He then stepped to her side and smiled down at Brian Brave Walker, then turned to Susan Sweet Bird.
“Thank you for helping today, Susan Sweet Bird,” he said softly. “Would you care to join us for the evening meal?”
Susan Sweet Bird slowly shook her head back and forth. “It is time for your family gathering,” she said, reaching a hand out toward Dancing Cloud before she found his arm to pat it. “You have been missed, my nephew chief.”
