Swift Horse

Soft Wind smiled and walked past Marsha, then stopped and turned to her and smiled again. “Marsha, did Edward James tell you that we have decided to have the wedding ceremony in two sunrises?” she asked softly.

“Two . . . days . . . ?” Marsha said, her voice drawn, finding it hard to believe that her brother was marrying so soon.

“I’m happy for you,” she murmured. “I know how happy you are making my brother.”

She started to say something else even more positive—which she felt she owed Soft Wind because of how she had behaved earlier upon hearing the news—but stopped when several young braves ran past and into the forest, seemingly excited about something.

She quickly noticed that they were carrying bows, with quivers of arrows on their backs, all of which were smaller than those carried by grown adults.

“Where are they going?” she asked as she stepped outside again, watching. “Why are they so excited? Is it because of the council?”

“No, it has nothing to do with the council, for the young braves will not be there,” Soft Wind said. “It is for adults only.”

“Then where are they going armed?” Marsha asked, still watching as more of the young braves ran after those she had already seen.

“There is a target practice range not that far from our village where the youngsters practice shooting arrows from their bows,” Soft Wind said matter-of-factly as she came outside and stood with Marsha. “It is good for them to shoot at targets other than living creatures until their skills at hunting are more honed.”

Abraham stepped up to them. He was smiling broadly.

“We must go now,” Soft Wind said, watching Marsha remove her apron and hang it from a peg on the wall, then close the door behind her.

“Will you explain the ceremony to me as it happens?” Marsha asked as they walked toward the huge council house, where people were filing in, one by one. She glanced over at Abraham. “It would be good for Abraham to know, too, since he plans to join the hunt one day.”

“I will be glad to tell you both,” Soft Wind said, smiling at Marsha and then past her at Abraham.

They went on into the council house. Marsha grabbed Soft Wind by an arm when Soft Wind started to go down to sit at the front of the people. “Please let’s just sit here at the back,” Marsha murmured. “I always feel that my presence disturbs some of your people.”

“In time they will all accept you,” Soft Wind said, then smiled knowingly at Marsha. “As my chieftain brother has accepted you.”

Marsha hated it when she felt the heat of a blush rush to her cheeks!

Would he be able to read her feelings? Her mother had always told her that she wore her feelings on her face.

If she did so today, Swift Horse would know that she had fallen in love with him!

Chapter 14

Virtue, how frail it is!

Friendship, how rare!

—Percy Bysshe Shelley

Marsha was impressed by the huge council house. It was made the same as the Creek people’s homes, but much larger. Instead of wood flooring, however, the floor was bare earth, and in the center of the huge room a fire burned within a circle of rocks, the smoke being drawn through a hole in the roof that could be closed during inclement weather.

All of the warriors who had been a part of the hunt sat forward, facing the fire; the warriors who had not participated this time and the women and children sat behind them. Both Chief Swift Horse and his shaman, Bright Moon, sat on a platform facing everyone.

Marsha’s pulse raced when she caught Swift Horse glancing at her, holding his eyes on her momentarily before looking away when a young brave brought a calumet pipe to him, and then another brave brought him fire for his pipe. Marsha was mesmerized at how the young brave placed the flames to the tobacco in the bowl of the pipe as Swift Horse sucked on the long stem, soon sending smoke upward.

After the two young braves were sitting again among the crowd, Swift Horse stood up and faced the east. “I blow my first puff of smoke to where the sun rises,” he said, taking a drag from the pipe, blowing the smoke eastward. He repeated this process for the other cardinal points, then handed the pipe to Bright Moon, who also smoked from it, then handed the pipe to the warrior next to him, who passed the pipe on around the council house until all warriors had partaken of it.

When the pipe came back to Swift Horse where he again sat on the platform, he handed it to a young brave who came with a wooden case for it.

The pipe then taken away, Swift Horse rose again and faced everyone. “We are joined here today, as one heart and mind, to celebrate once again the first buck kill of the season, which will be sacrificed as our offering to the one above who allows this successful hunt,” he said proudly. “This, too, is done as a thanksgiving for the recovery of health of those who among us are ill, and for our former success in hunting, so that the divine care and goodness may be still continued to our Wind Clan of Creek.”

He motioned with a hand toward two warriors who had just come into the council house at the back carrying a large deer.

“Come forth,” he said, motioning toward the warriors with his hands. “Pull the newly killed venison through the flames of the fire, both by the way of a sacrifice, and to consume the blood, life, or animal spirits of the beast.”