Bower, 1874-1940 - The heritage of the Sioux

Annie-Many-Ponies stilled the ache in her heart with the thought of her proud place beside Ramon who had much land and many cattle and who loved her so much. She lifted her hand and swore she •would go with him.

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She slipped away then and crept into her tent in the little cluster beside the house — for the company had forsaken Applehead's adobe and slept under canvas as a matter of choice. "With Indian cunning she bided her time and gave no sign of what was hidden in her heart. She rose with the others and brushed her glossy hair until it shone in the sunlight like the hair of a high-caste Chinese woman. She tied upon it the new bows of red ribbon which she had bought in the secret hope that they would be a part of her wedding finery. She put on her Indian gala dress of beaded buckskin with the colored porcupine quills — and then she smiled cunningly and drew a dress of red-and-blue striped calico over her head and settled the folds of it about her with little, smoothing pats, so that the two white women, Rosemary and Jean, should not notice any unusual bulkiness of her figure.

She did not know how she would manage to escape the keen eyes of Wagalexa Conka and to steal away from the ranch, especially if she had to work in the picture that day. But Luck unconsciously opened wide the trail for her. He announced at breakfast that they would work up in 113

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Bear Canon that day, and that he would not need Jean or Annie either; and that, as it would be hotter than the hinges of Gehenna up in that canon, they had better stay at home and enjoy themselves.

Annie-Many Ponies did not betray by so much as a flicker of the lashes that she heard him — much less that it was the best of good news to her. She went into her tent and packed all of her clothes into a bundle which she wrapped in her plaid shawl, and was proud because the bundle was so big, and because she had much fine beadwork and so many red ribbons, and a waist of bright blue silk which she would wear when she stood before the priest, if Eamon did not like the dress of beaded buckskin.

A ring with an immense red stone in it which Eamon had given her, she slipped upon her finger with her little, inscrutable smile. She was engaged to be married, now, just like white girls; and tomorrow she would have a wide ring of shiny gold for that finger, and should be the wife of Eamon.

Just then Shunka Chistala, lying outside her tent, flapped his tail on the ground and gave a little, eager whine. Annie-Many-Ponies thrust her head 114

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through the opening and looked out, and then stepped over the little black dog and stood before her tent to watch the Happy Family mount and ride away with Wagalexa Conka in their midst and with the mountain wagon rattling after them loaded with " props " and the camera and the noonday lunch and Pete Lowry and Tommy Johnson, the scenic artist. Applehead was going to drive the wagon, and she scowled when he yanked off the brake and cracked the whip over the team.

Luck, feeling perchance the intensity of her gaze, turned in the saddle and looked back. The eyes of Annie-Many-Ponies softened and saddened, because this was the last time she would see Wagalexa Conka go riding away to make pictures — the last time she would see him. She lifted her hand, and made the Indian sign of farewell — the peace-go-with-you sign that is used for solemn occasions of parting.

Luck pulled up short and stared. What did she mean by that ? He reined his horse around, half minded to ride back and ask her why she gave him that peace-sign. She had never done it before, except once or twice in scenes that he directed. 115

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But after all he did not go. They were late in getting started that morning, which irked his energetic soul; and women's whims never did impress Luck Lindsay very deeply. Besides, just as he was turning to ride back, Annie stooped and went into her tent as though her gesture had carried no especial meaning.

Then in her tent he heard her singing the high, weird chant of the Omaha mourning song and again he was half-minded to go back, though the wailing minor notes, long drawn and mournful, might mean much or they might mean merely a fit of the blues. The others rode on talking and laughing together, and Luck rode with them; but the chant of the Omaha was in his ears and tingling his nerves. And the vision of Annie-Many-Ponies standing straight before her tent and making the sign of peace and farewell haunted him that day.

Eosemary and Jean, standing in the porch, waved good-bye to their men folk until the last bobbing hatcrown had gone down out of sight in the long, low swale that creased the mesa in that direction. Whereupon they went into the house.

" What in the world is the matter with Annie ? " 116

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Jean exploded, with a little shiver. " I'd rather hear a band of gray wolves tune up when you're caught out in the breaks and have to ride in the dark. What is that caterwaul? Do you suppose she's on the warpath or anything ? "

" Oh, that's just the squaw coming out in her! " Rosemary slammed the door shut so they could not hear so plainly. " She's getting more Injuny every day of her life. I used to try and treat her like a white girl — but you just can't do it, Jean."

" Hiu-Mu-hi-i-ah-h ! Hiurhiu-hi-i-ah-h-Ji — Jiia-aa-'h-'h!"

Jean stood in the middle of the room and listened. " Br-r-r! " she shivered — and one could not blame her. " I wonder if she'd be mad," she drawled, " if I went out and told her to shut up. It sounds as if somebody was dead, or going to die or something. Like Lite says your dog will howl if anything—"

" Oh, for pity sake! " Rosemary pushed her

into the living room with make-believe savageness.

" I've heard her and Luck sing that last winter.

And there's a kind of a teetery dance that goes with

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it. It's supposed to be a mourning song, as Luck explains it. But don't pay any attention to her at all. She just does it to get on our nerves. It'd tickle her to death if she thought it made us nervous."

" And now the dog is joining in on the chorus! I must say they're a cheerful pair to have around the house. And I know one thing — if they keep that up much longer, I'll either get out there with a gun, or saddle up and follow the boys."

" They'd tease us to death, Jean, if we let Annie run us out."

" It's run or be run," Jean retorted irritatedly. " I wanted to write poetry today — I thought of an awfully striking sentence about the — for heaven's sake, where's a shotgun ? "

" Jean, you wouldn't! " Rosemary, I may here explain, was very femininely afraid of guns. " She'd — why, "there's no telling what she might do! Luck says she carries a knife."

" What if she does ? She ought to carry a few bird-shot, too. She's got nothing to mourn about — nobody's died, has there ? "

" Hiu-Jiiu-hia-a-a-ah! Eia-a-a-a-ah! " wailed 118

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Annie-Many-Ponies in her tent, because she would never again look upon the face of Wagalexa Conka — or if she did it would be to see his anger blaze 'and burn her heart to ashes. To her it was as though death sat beside her; the death of Wagalexa Conka's friendship for her. She forgot his harshness because he thought her disobedient and wicked. She forgot that she loved Kamon Chavez, and that he was rich and would give her a fine home and much love. She forgot everything but that she had sworn an oath and that she must keep it though it killed faith and kindness and friendship as with a knife.

So she wailed, in high-keyed, minor chanting unearthly in its primitive inarticulateness of sor-r row, the chant of the Omaha mourning song. So had her tribe wailed in the olden days when warriors returned to the villages and told of their dead. So had her mother wailed when the Great Spirit took away her first man-child. So had the squaws wailed in their tepees since the land was young. And the little black dog, sitting on his haunches before her door, pointed his moist nose into the sunlight and howled in mournful sympathy. 119