“It’s been such an ordeal. And I think the struggles aren’t over. It feels good to remove these clothes, though, like letting go of the past,” I said, tears pricking the back of my eyes.
A slight frown appeared on Emily’s face. She took a deep breath and plunged into the water with a shriek.
“So… c-cold.” She worked to shed herself of clothing. Then, like me, her expression turned to sorrow. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Poor Charlotte. She was taken so brutally.”
“She was,” I agreed.
“And poor Papa. He may have done bad things but didn’t deserve to be shot and killed like that.” Emily’s voice cracked.
At the sound of splashing, I saw the woman who had ordered our clothes removed wading into the water with us. When she stood before us, she said, “You are sad. Let your sorrows wash away.”
She scooped water into her hands and poured it over my head, citing some chant I couldn’t understand.
As liquid trickled down my hair and face, I felt a wave of purification. All the battles and struggles I’d faced up to this point had tempered my spirit, made me strong, had revealed characteristics I hadn’t yet known. I was a fierce woman and intensely loyal to those I loved.
The woman did the same to Emily, dousing her head and face.
Emily started to cry even harder. “I have no family. I have no one. I am all alone in this world now.”
“You have me, Emily. You have me.” I pushed my way through the water and wrapped her in my arms.
The Native woman stood next to us and continued to pour blessings over our heads, chanting songs.
I didn’t know how much time had passed as we huddled in the water, freezing our asses off, hugging one another.
Then, the woman said something like, “It is done,” and urged us toward the riverbank.
I glanced toward the sandy bank where two young women stood, holding what looked like deerskin garments.
I reached for my stola, which had wrapped around my legs, and clutched it to my chest.
Emily did the same with her dress.
We both waded out of the stream.
“Give clothes to Song of the Night,” our Native American healer said, pointing to one of the young women. “Laughing Maid will help you into your new garments.”
We did as we were told, shivering until we donned supple deerskin garments.
Laughing Maid held our sodden old clothes away from her body as if they were something distasteful like offal or dog poop.
I reached for the dry pants that held my bundled weapons and said, “I’ll make sure these get to you.”
Laughing Maid nodded.
And then, purified by the water and the woman’s blessing, we were led back to the village and shown to a teepee where we could rest until the feast.
“Goodness, does it feel good to be clean and dressed once more in clean clothes,” I said, falling back on the bison hides spread over the floor. I’d been able to sneak my weapons from the pants and strap them to my thigh without Emily noticing.
“Yes, it does,” Emily said, snuggling beside me. She rolled on her stomach and propped herself on her forearms. “I’m so glad to have you by my side, Olivia.”
“I know. Me, too.” My heart surged with affection. I’d liked her from the start, and our connection seemed to grow and grow.
Emily fiddled with a lock of her wet hair. “Roman seems caring… nice. I’m not sure about Marcellious. He seems like a mean man, filled with anger and violence.”
“He is.” I sighed and folded my arms behind my head. “I thought he must have redeeming qualities, but lately, I’m unsure. Maybe if he met the right woman, he could be a changed man.”
“How did you meet Roman?” Emily said, rolling on her back.
