So, forcing as much cheer as I could, I thanked John James for his time, promised to return and visit him, and said goodbye. Marcellious and I departed.
A lightness in my heart gave me a much-needed spring to my steps. We had a direction to follow!Finally, we might be able to end this terrible existence.
An idea struck me, and when we returned to our small encampment, I made a beeline to Grey Feather’s teepee.
“Chief, may I enter?” I asked respectfully when I stood outside his dwelling.
“Yes, yes,” he answered, and I ducked beneath the door flap to enter.
I sat across from him. He’d aged a lifetime since I saw him last, which wasn’t that long ago—perhaps a few hours. But maybe I had, too. We both carried burdens of grief and sorrow upon our backs. Mine had only lessened when sitting with John James, but the toll my grief had taken remained etched on my face.
“What can I do for you today?” Grey Feather asked.
Dark clouds of emotion shrouded him, and I felt uncomfortable in his presence. “When you pronounced Roman and me as husband and wife, you told me we could use our sacred weapons to learn of the other’s whereabouts.”
The barest glimmer of light shone in his eyes. “That’s right. I’d completely forgotten.”
“I’d like to use my dagger to see where he is. If he’s alive, I want to know about it. As you know, I’ve been in the darkest places these last few weeks—had I remembered the dagger connection, I might have been comforted by finding Roman, dead or alive. If he’s dead, I can grieve and move on. But if he’s alive….” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I couldn’t complete my sentence.
“Of course, of course! We could all use some comfort at this time.” Grey Feather gestured as if the spark of life in his eyes had spread through his limbs. “Do you have your knife?”
“I always carry it with me.” I pivoted away from him and discretely removed it from my thigh. Then, I turned back around and held it in my palm. “What do we do?”
“Sit right here.” He patted the fur by his side.
I crawled and settled next to him.
He held out his palm, and I placed my knife into his hand.
Firmly gripping one of my fingers, he held my dagger before him. “Repeat the sacred scripture.”
I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and began reciting the words.
He sliced my finger in one quick move. “Again. Repeat it.”
He positioned my weapon beneath my hand and squeezed my finger.
I repeated the chant again.
Three drops of crimson fell on the gleaming blade, sizzling as they landed.
“Show us where Roman has gone,” Grey Feather said solemnly. “Reveal his journey to us.”
The transparent visage of Roman stood before me, looking outward as a wall of enemy warriors descended over the hill toward him and the Sioux.
As if we were one body and one mind, I felt the fear and defeat he experienced and the resolve to fight valiantly and courageously.
Roman never gave up.
My body was flooded with love and longing.
“Oh, my love,” I said, reaching out to touch him. My hand slid right through the image.
The next scene showed him galloping across the plains, his rifle locked and loaded. He took aim and pulled the trigger, and warrior after warrior fell to his death. I looked through Roman’s eyes, witnessing the Kiowa and the Comanche bludgeoning Sioux warriors with tomahawks.
Tears streamed down my face as I watched Roman and a Kiowa falling to the ground from their horses. I silently cheered Roman on as he struggled to gain purchase over the Kiowa, finally defeating him by stabbing him through the heart.
An arrow struck Roman, then a knife sliced his calf. Other grisly scenes followed, then I watched in horror as Earth Bear was slain.
