Savage Courage

Shoshana and Dancing Willow exchanged quick, knowing looks and smiled at one another. Then they continued walking until they finally came to the spot where the ground had been opened to welcome Fawn’s body into it.

Once everyone had circled around in order to witness the burial, Shoshana approached the grave and looked into it. Her eyes widened in wonder.

Then she gazed at her husband, whose eyes met hers as he stepped back to stand with Shoshana while the other warriors began lowering Fawn’s body into the grave. All the while the singing continued, soft and sweet.

Shoshana knew that it would be disrespectful to speak at this time, but she longed to tell Storm just how much she appreciated his loving attention to her mother. He had placed in her grave many of the things that she had loved during her time with the Piñaleno River Band of Apache.

Her sewing equipment was there, as well as her second-favorite dress, for she wore her most favorite. He had included beautifully colored satin ribbons that he had traded for her through the years.

There were so many other things, yet not too many to crowd Fawn’s resting place; just enough so that she would not feel alone once her daughter and the others who loved her had to return to the duties of the living.

Before leaving for the burial, Storm had explained to Shoshana that not so long ago there was a big difference in burial ceremonies of women and warriors. The demise of a warrior provoked a lavish demonstration of woe and general sense of serious loss, whereas the death of a squaw was almost unnoticed, except by her friends and female relatives.

Today the ceremony was to be quiet and serene, but everyone would join in, not only family.

And that was how Shoshana felt it should be, for her mother had become beloved by everyone in this band of Apache, not only a few.

Now White Moon came from the crowd. He brought with him in a small wooden tray some sprigs of dried sagebrush which he had set aflame.

As he spoke to the deceased in low, loving tones, he brushed his hand through the smoke of the sagebrush, then waved it over Fawn’s prone body. He then bent lower and waved his hand through the smoke again, sending it down into the grave.

Then he handed the tray of burning sagebrush to Shoshana, who performed the same ritual with the smoke. She passed it on to Storm.

Once that was done, White Moon stepped away, to be replaced by several young girls and boys who knelt around the grave and sang softly to Fawn. Once again the eagle appeared overhead, casting its shadow over them.

Everything seemed like a dream to Shoshana, so mystical she had to fight back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes.

She had already cried a river. Yet there were more tears that needed to be shed.

But not now.

This was a time of rejoicing as her mother was being sent off to join those she had loved, oh, so long ago.

Shoshana could barely remember her true Apache father, since she had been so small when he had passed away. But she recalled enough about him that she could almost see him in the clouds, his hands reaching out for his wife, who would soon join him.

Shoshana hid a sob behind a hand, for she now truly felt her father’s presence. She could even feel him putting his strong arms around her, as he had done so often when she had adored the tall, muscled Apache warrior whom she proudly called Ahte.

The word father brought another face into her mind’s eye, one that caused bitterness in her heart.

That man had stolen many precious moments from Shoshana that could have been spent with her mother if he had not stolen Shoshana from her true home and people.

She brushed her thoughts aside as quickly as his face had appeared, for he did not belong there with her this day, nor ever again.

She was saying good-bye to her mother, and would begin the rest of her life where she belonged, and with a man who was a hundred times the man Colonel George Whaley had ever been.

The children’s song was over. They rose and went to stand beside their mothers. Storm took Shoshana’s hand and stood with her over the grave.

When he spoke gentle, loving words to her mother, the woman who had come into his people’s lives so long ago, Shoshana could no longer hold back the tears.

She was touched deeply by the love her husband had had for her mother. His respect for her was evident in the words he was saying to her now.

When Storm glanced at Shoshana and nodded, she told her mother her own deep feelings, and said this was not a final good-bye. They would be reunited one day among the stars; they would laugh and sing again as they had done before their worlds had been torn asunder.

Dancing Willow then approached the grave, and as her people’s Seer, said special words that touched Shoshana deep within her soul. She knew that things had changed between her and Storm’s sister.

They were friends. More than that, they were family.

After all was said, everyone but the warriors whose duty it was to cover the body stepped away from the grave. Lovingly, and with much devotion and care, the warriors securely covered the dead with brush, dirt, and rocks.