Savage Beloved

Nor for any outward part,

No, nor for my constant heart.

—Anonymous

Billowy white clouds skipped across the blue sky overhead as Candy stood in the shadows of a tall birch tree a few feet away from the Wichita people, who were conducting the burial ceremony for Short Robe. He was dressed in his most colorful clothes. He wore yellow streaks beneath his eyes so that he would not lose sight of the sun on his journey now that his soul had departed to the land of ghosts.

Candy was only observing the burial of Short Robe, not an actual participant. Two Eagles had asked her to join the funeral rites with his people, but had not asked her to stand next to him. She understood. Until she became his wife, her place was not at his side during such important functions. He had not told her this; she just felt it.

She had walked slowly with the people through a forest of birch and cottonwood trees as Short Robe was carried on a travois for his last journey on earth. After a time, they came to a clearing where a grave had been dug for his burial.

Candy looked even now at the many mounds of earth dotting this otherwise flat stretch of land. The wind sang low in the branches of the tall pines all around them.

The graves were not marked as white people marked theirs, with names engraved on stone. Instead there were only uncarved stones placed over the graves.

She wondered how the families of the deceased remembered which grave belonged to whom, since there were no identifying markers except the stones. She could only conclude that they knew without needing markers.

Another thing that puzzled her was the size of the hole that awaited Short Robe’s body. It seemed large enough to hold several deceased, not just one.

She looked slowly at a lovely mare that stood close to the grave. It held no saddle on its back, nor reins. A lone rope hung around its neck, but not an ordinary rope. This one was decorated with feathers and flowers, obviously ornamented thus for the burial ceremony.

She glanced again at the large grave, and then back at the horse that stood dutifully close to the dead warrior it had belonged to.

A chill went down her spine as she guessed why the grave had been made so large. She had heard that some Indian warriors were buried with their favorite steed!

Was this horse going to be destroyed, then placed in the grave with Short Robe?

The shaman, Crying Wolf, was kneeling beside the fallen loved one who lay on the travois, chanting Short Robe’s deeds as a warrior.

When Crying Wolf was finished, everyone began a low chant as Short Robe was lowered into the grave.

Soon his bow, his quiver of arrows, his lance, and war knife, were placed in the grave with him.

What happened next was so sudden, so shocking, yet a necessary part of the burial rites. A warrior stepped up to Short Robe’s horse and shot it, killing it instantly.

Many men then went to the horse and with great ceremony lowered it into the grave beside Short Robe, so that they would make the long journey together, as they had traveled while Short Robe still had breath in his lungs.

Shaken by what had just happened, Candy turned and looked away just as the warriors knelt beside the grave, and with their hands started pushing earth into it.

Candy saw that Two Eagles was among those who filled the grave. When it was done, they placed stones over the thick mound of earth.

Candy waited until she saw the people head back toward their village. Then she fell into step after they had all passed her by, even Two Eagles. He and the shaman led the procession.

She had felt his eyes on her as he had walked past, but she knew why he hadn’t stopped to see if she was alright.

He was still involved in the burial process, which would not end until all his uncle’s personal possessions were taken care of.

Two Eagles had told her that after the burial, everyone would return to the village, where they would stand back and watch as Two Eagles took his uncle’s belongings from his tepee. Before burning Short Robe’s tepee, which was the custom after someone died, he would hand out all of his uncle’s possessions to those who were no kin to him, for it was the rule that no Wichita could benefit from the death of a family member.

After arriving at the village, Candy went straight to Two Eagles’s lodge, which now was also hers, and stood outside. She watched as Short Robe’s belongings were handed to those who stepped up and voiced a need for them.

This process took a while; then Candy watched Two Eagles light a torch in the flames of the huge outdoor fire, and go back to his uncle’s tepee to set it ablaze.

Everyone was quiet as they watched the leaping flames re

ach heavenward. The buckskin covering was soon gone, leaving only the remains of the lodge poles blazing red with fire. One by one, they crumbled to the ground, until all that was left of the tepee was simmering, glowing ashes.

Then the mourners solemnly turned and began making their way toward their own homes, the children quiet, too, for they had loved this old man who shared so much with them.