Obsidian Tears (Apparition Lake Book 2) Read online

  “Always begin with the War Dance,” Two Ravens said.

  “Hidden aggression?” Glenn asked.

  Two Ravens smiled, without smiling as was his way, and shook his head. “Just color and noise. The crowd enjoys it almost as much as the dancers.”

  “Which one is your Arapaho healer?”

  “Only the men dance the War Dance,” Two Ravens said. “She wouldn't be out here yet.”

  “She? The healer is a woman?”

  Two Ravens nodded. “Unlike any woman you've ever met. You won't see her during the tourist dances. She'll be praying now.” He returned his attention to the circle. “We'll have to watch and wait.”

  “This exhibition is for you, our visitors,” Shakespeare told the crowd. “But our dancers travel to Pow Wows throughout the country to compete with dancers from other tribes. And, of course, there are many dances we perform as a community, and in private, as part of our way of life. The beating of the drum represents the heartbeat of life first heard in the mother's womb. The drum beat is integral to all our dancing and singing.”

  The War Dance ended and the dancers cleared the field. The drummers segued to a different beat. The number of dancers fell off greatly as the men's Fancy Dance began. Only a dozen braves, wearing huge head dresses, great round shields decorating each shoulder, and curtains of feathers dangling to their thighs, took the field. The crowd ate it up, snapping pictures and moving to the beat. When the fancy dancers finally gave way, they did so to enthusiastic applause. “Let's hear some noise out there,” Shakespeare called. “Cheer them on! Cheer them on!”

  And they did.

  As the shift of dancers took place, a lone brave wound up at center circle waving his hands and pointing at something on the ground at his feet. “Folks, you see,” Shakespeare told the crowd. “This brave is pointing out an eagle feather that's fallen to the ground.” The drummers changed their tempo. Several tribal elders walked in, surrounding the feather with hands raised, seemingly in prayer. A smaller group of dancers followed and moved around them. “All living things are revered among the native tribes of North America,” Shakespeare said. “Revered, not worshiped. It is the Great Spirit, the Creator, we worship. But all life is revered and, for flying higher than the other animals, representing the highest of the earth, the eagle is revered highest of all. If an eagle feather falls during a dance, the elders perform a ceremony to retrieve it.”

  Glenn nodded. “I thought that feather fell conspicuously close to center stage.”

  “You,” Two Ravens replied, “are a cynic.”

  In a well-rehearsed ceremony, the loosed feather was rescued and the elders cleared out. A group of young women danced onto the field with hands on hips. They were easily as colorful as the earlier Fancy Dancers but less ready for flight. Most wore only a single feather standing straight up at the back of their heads on a simple band. A unique sound in the air gave away another difference, each wore costumes adorned with tiny bells. “The Jingle Dance,” Shakespeare told the audience.

  Two Ravens crossed his arms, grunted, and mumbled, “It's called the Healing Dance.”

  Glenn bit his lip not to laugh, then returned his attention to the Healing Dancers who hopped in small circles, chanting and jingling all the way. The older women swooped in next, doing circles with their capes outstretched in the Traditional Shawl Dance. These 'more seasoned' gals showed the young they still had it in them with complex scissor steps, kicks, and raucous high-pitched singing, while Shakespeare shouted, “Watch their footwork! Watch their footwork! Beautiful dancers!”

  The crowd agreed whole-heartedly.

  For over an hour, they came and went, in mixed-age, mixed-sex, and gender specific dances, each performer garbed in the regalia of the particular dance, the Men's Traditional, the Women's mixed, the Contemporary Shawl, the Women's Traditional, every minute of it colorful and loud, with Shakespeare introducing each dance and encouraging the crowd to cheer the dancers on. “Whistle,” he shouted with a laugh. “Scream! Holler!” To the sounds of bells and drums, the crowd obliged.

  “Let's have a nice round of applause, ladies and gentlemen,” Shakespeare finally said, as a small group of men made their way out of the circle. “For the grass dancers and one prairie chicken dancer.”

  Applause followed, but Glenn tuned it out, turning his attention to his friend instead. “This is entertaining and all, Johnny,” the ranger said. “But why have you brought me here?”

  Two Ravens sighed in exasperation. “In what will probably be a failed attempt to assuage your eternal, confounded impatience, my friend, I've brought you to meet the Ghost Dancer.”

  Chapter 23

  “Okay. I'll bite. What is a Ghost Dancer?”

  “One who performs the Ghost Dance, of course.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Glenn growled. “Skipping the comedy, what is it?”

  “You may need a bit of comedy before this discussion is over.” Two Ravens fell into quiet, staring at the ground, studying his thoughts as was his habit. Glenn waited.

  “Indians,” Two Ravens said. “Do not talk of ghosts as the whites do. We do not believe in hauntings. Ghosts are not evil or corrupted personalities bringing fear and sickness. We believe in spirits. As we both saw, once upon a time, those spirits can be vengeful. But even then, the cause is often just. We believe spirits are, for the most part, helpful and that they're all around us. We call upon the spirits of our ancestors for strength. When we pass into the next life our spirits provide strength for those we leave behind. The Ghost Dance is many things but, mostly, it is meant as a plea to our ancestors.”

  “In the early days following the Indian surrenders, Glenn, conditions were bad on the reservations. Indians throughout the west were cold, hungry, ill-treated, to say nothing of disrespected and shamed. Convicted without trial for the crime of being 'Indians', many were treated as the lowest of criminals. The people needed something to give them hope. A medicine man called Wovoka was given that hope. In a prophecy, he was shown the Ghost Dance which called upon our ancestors' spirits and the spirits of the land to restore the Indian to his rightful place. Wovoka returned this prophecy to his people, the Paiute, and taught them the dance to give the prophecy life. The Ghost Dance said the buffalo would return, the land would flourish, the white man would leave, and the Indian reclaim his sovereignty.”

  “Word of Wovoka's prophecy spread like fire through the Indian nations. Tribes from all over the country sent representatives to learn the dance. And, as Wovoka told those he taught to keep the reason for the dance a secret from the whites, the government began to get nervous.”

  “Over a dance?” Glenn asked incredulously.

  Two Ravens stared at the chief ranger. “You have heard of the massacre at Wounded Knee?”

  “Heard of it, yes. But I don't know anything about it. I'm a park ranger, not a history major, and Wounded Knee happened over a hundred years ago. So, in my ignorance, I ask again: over a dance?”

  “There are many who believe Wounded Knee happened as revenge for Custer's loss at Little Big Horn, but…” Two Ravens shrugged. “The dance played its part. White travelers to the west, and agents from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, saw the Indians of the plains, Great Basin, and California all doing the Ghost Dance, and they grew afraid.”

  Glenn laughed and shook his head.

  “Oh, believe me, it would have been something to see. You won't get the effect today, in this setting, but in its day, with a whole tribe, hundreds, sometimes thousands of Indians moving together in a great circle, crying, and calling upon their ancestors. Oh, it would have been something to see!”

  Two Ravens sighed. “Anyway, reports got back to Washington that aggressive Indians were forming an army. And the fears increased when the dance spread to South Dakota and the Lakota. The Lakota ignored Wovoka's warning; they spoke openly of why they were dancing. They added 'ghost shirts' to the mix; they wore plain ankle length shirts that, they said, were magic and would protect the danc
ers from the white man's bullets.”

  “Well, Washington lost its collective mind, of course. The Ghost Dance was made illegal; those participating in it were punished. But prophecy doesn't change because the enemy doesn't like it, and you cannot kill a spirit by outlawing it. The Indians danced on. The details of the weeks that followed are fascinating and heartbreaking. But the bottom line, the point of the story is, it was decided the Ghost Dance had to be stopped. The tribal police were sent to arrest the Lakota chief and holy man, Sitting Bull. There was a struggle; Sitting Bull and several policemen were killed. The United States 7th Cavalry was sent in to disarm and take control of the Indians. They came, 457 soldiers, to Wounded Knee, on December 29, 1890. They opened fire on the Ghost Dancers, on the Sioux braves there to defend them, and on their chief, Sitting Bull's brother, Spotted Elk. The banks of Wounded Knee Creek and the snows of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation were red with blood that day. Spotted Elk and 90 of his braves, 200 women and children, and twenty-five US soldiers all died, massacred, supposedly over the message in the Ghost Dance.”

  Glenn looked out to see another dance had ended and the dancers clearing the field. “So where is this healer I'm supposed to meet?”

  Two Ravens smiled, again and as always without smiling, and raised a calming hand. “Have patience, white man. We've arrived.”

  “That's terrific,” the loudspeakers boomed. “That's great.” Shakespeare dropped his voice to a serious tone. “Now, for this next, we're going to take it the other direction, away from celebration. We will show you something rarely seen outside of the Indian Nations. We ask for your attention and your silence. Thank you, your silence, please. And I'll turn the microphone over to the Reservation Council's Arapaho representative, Running River.”

  The Arapaho took the microphone and made a show of waiting. The crowd grew silent.

  “The message,” Running River said. He lowered the mic, cleared his throat, then started again. “The message came to the brothers of the Arapaho, to the brothers of the Shoshone, during a solar eclipse. The message was a prophecy.”

  A piper blew several notes that hung in the air like a horse blanket covering them all in melancholy. A low murmur passed through the audience. A thrill climbed Glenn's spine. A driving drum beat began. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum.

  “The whites will run from our lands,” Running River said. “The plains will be replenished with buffalo. The Indian dead will be resurrected. And native sovereignty will flourish again over the land. That was the vision given to a medicine man. To make the vision come true, he took the message to the people, taught them they must live righteously, and taught them… the Ghost Dance.”

  Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum.

  Two Ravens pointed, and for the first time Glenn took notice of two lodges, made of brain tanned leather stretched over triangular stacked poles, adjoining each other on the far side beyond the circle. A fire burned inside each, casting distorted moving images on the walls of one and the silhouette of a lone unmoving sitting figure in the other. On Running River's introduction, the door flap of the lodge with the busy shadows opened and four Arapaho Indians, two men and two women in their late teens and early twenties, emerged.

  “The towers and the gatekeepers,” Two Ravens whispered. “That's how they are known on the reservation.”

  Glenn wasn't sure if deeper meaning attached but, with names like that, he was not surprised to see one couple were quite tall and the other pair rather short. Unlike the previous dancers, there wasn't a feather, bell, or bead among the four. They wore none of the wildly colorful accoutrement that had so far been on display everywhere for the tourists. Instead they wore ankle length buckskin 'shirts', the mens' a natural tan, the womens' dyed a drab yellow, each painted with one image, repeated randomly, deer on the tall male, trees on the tall female, bison on the shorter male, waves of running water on the petite female. Each simple and similar, each startlingly unique, beautiful but melancholy. The faces of the towers and the gatekeepers were the same, beautiful but melancholy. They walked to the edge of the circle and stood with closed eyes.

  “The healer,” Glenn whispered. “Which one?”

  Two Ravens shook his head. “She comes.”

  The shadow in the second lodge stood. The door to the lodge came open and a fifth dancer emerged. She was dressed as simply, in a long buckskin shirt, dyed blue with flying birds painted in black in the same random pattern. Unlike the others, she wore two feathers, tied in her long black hair, hanging at each ear. She was, Glenn guessed, in her late twenties or early thirties (near Two Ravens' age) and was, without exception, the most stunningly gorgeous woman the chief ranger had ever seen. Two Ravens stared, too, but with purpose beyond appreciation or lust. Glenn saw it plainly, deep-seeded emotion behind the outfitter's eyes. Whatever it was, Two Ravens and the Ghost Dancer had a past.

  “She's very beautiful,” Glenn said.

  “She is a princess.”

  Glenn chuckled softly. Two Ravens stopped him with a cold stare.

  “I mean it,” the Indian said. He returned his attention to the dancer. “She is a genuine Indian princess.”

  The ghost dancers took the field and the Ghost Dancer moved among them, as the drums beat:

  Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum.

  The princess lifted her hands to the sky, chanting, “Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih. Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih.”

  The others followed, lifting their hands, as the drums beat:

  Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum.

  They joined chanting, “Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih. Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih.”

  They formed a circle, took hands and moved slowly, like a backbeat to the driving rhythm of the drums, in the seven directions of the dance's circle, first north… then east… west… then south… up… then down. Then, most importantly, they turned within their circle. The dance, more than anything else, was a plea to their ancestors. The spirits of their ancestors, the Indians knew, could be found within.

  Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum.

  “Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih. Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih.”

  Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum. Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum Ba Bum.

  “Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih. Hy-iy-yih-yih-yih.”

  It was beautiful, Glenn thought. Even without feathers, beads, or bells. The dance was startlingly beautiful, engrossing, and painfully sad. Glenn saw that the Ghost Dancer was crying. His heart ached for her. As he watched the dancers, and in particular the stunning princess, Glenn felt something else, something frightening. The Ghost Dancer was angry.

  A question occurred and, not one to beat around the bush, especially with Two Ravens, Glenn asked in a whisper. “Is doing this dance still illegal?”

  Two Ravens shrugged. “What difference does that make?”

  Glenn covered his badge like a lady caught in the shower and, smiling, rephrased the question. “The Bureau isn't worried anymore about an up-rising?”

  “With half of us fat and happy off casino revenues and the other half starving on welfare, nobody in the government is losing sleep over the Indians. I can't imagine what in the world could cause us to rise up today.”

  The enthralling dance built to a crescendo. The drums drove, the dancers cried. Finally, still holding hands, a symbolic tribe moving, pleading with their ancestors as one, and the Ghost Dancer seeming at the same time to offer a pointed threat to anyone paying attention, the dancers collapsed on the ground. The singing stopped. The drums stopped. All was silent. When the drained audience found the energy to react, they did so with wild applause. Glenn clapped too, affected, he had to admit, more than he would have believed possible. Two Ravens, unreadable, just stared at the princess on the ground.

  Chapter 24

  The Ghost Dancers rose ignoring the crowd and, led by the princess, walked off the field and disappeared into their lodges. “The Ghost Dancers,” William Shakespeare said, as he
reclaimed his microphone. Then, brightening, he told the crowd, “Your turn now. The Pow Wow is not about just watching. You got to get involved. Come out, right now, onto the field and join us in a dance. Don't be shy!” The drums took up. The steady beat turned the Council chairman's invitation into a challenge. “You can't do it wrong. Native American dancing is about what's happening within you. Just watch the feet of the nearest Indian dancer to get started and join!”

  Moving to the beat, in the Traditional steps, the reservation dancers flooded back onto the field motioning for the tourists around the circle to join them. “We need more dancers,” Shakespeare called. “Come on out everybody. Hey, enjoy! Enjoy!”

  The crowd did as asked. Clumsily, hesitantly at first, then more enthusiastically, the Levis and tennis shoes, cameras and cowboy hats, newly purchased head dresses and, despite the falling temperature as night claimed the desert, more than a few pairs of sandals and shorts, moved in among the reservation dancers encouraged by the drums.

  The Ghost Dancers, with no interest in gyrating with the tourists, were long gone. Seeing this, and suddenly concerned they'd missed their opportunity and wasted the last hour, Two Ravens, with a shout of “Glenn!” took off running. Together, the outfitter and the park ranger double-timed it around the crowd of dancers, intent on reaching their lodges before the princess and her dancers left the event.

  They reached the lodges to find the race had been unnecessary. The small fires still burned in each, with many shadows moving in one, and a solitary shadow moving in the other. Closer examination of the silhouettes made it plain the dancers were changing from their ghost shirts. The shadows in the first lodge suggested an undulating many-limbed monster. The shadow in the second outlined an exquisite female form. Glenn turned his back on the lodge; he saw that Two Ravens had done the same.