The man reached out and took Devlin's hand. He then placed Devlin's free hand in Sarah's. "Tua kemli?"

"I think he's asking if we're together," Sarah said as she looked at their entwined fingers.

"Omi." Devlin gave an affirmative answer. She looked away shyly, examining the smaller hand within her own.

The old man sat on the cot once more. He muttered to himself but appeared happier. Suddenly, he picked up the wooden bowl with both hands. He spoke quickly, offering up the bowl to Sarah and bowing his head.

"I don't understand," Sarah said. "Why does he want me to have that bowl?"

"It's his ikhish itampo, his medicine bowl. He seems to be under the impression that you deserve it more than him. I get the feeling he thinks you're a medicine woman."

"It's marked on the edges like Tima's. Tima is not a medicine woman, correct?" Sarah asked as she examined the bowl.

"Correct." Devlin's brow furrowed in concern. "Remember, Tima is a healer. She has the healing gift, but she never trained in the ways of a medicine woman. Keeho is a medicine man." Seeing Sarah's confused expression, Devlin hurried to explain. "Medicine men are more than healers in the Thunderbird clan. They're shamans, holy men. They act as a channel between an illness and the spirits. They use songs and rituals to heal the sick, ward off storms, bring success to a war or a hunt. I've seen them bring rain in desperate times. Tima has a gift toward healing the physical body. She sees an occasional vision, but she doesn't have the special power from the spirits. She heals illness with herbs and traditional prayers."

"And a medicine woman is different?" Sarah asked. She was still new to the Choctaw culture, particularly the Thunderbird clan's ways.

"Oh, yes," Devlin said. "A medicine woman is a rare find and especially powerful. The easiest explanation is that she's part medicine man, part healer. She has special knowledge and gifts, which the spirits give her at birth. The power is usually something that's pa.s.sed on from mother to daughter.

"Tima knew of a medicine woman. She told me stories when I was a girl of the medicine woman who belonged to the Beaver clan in the Southeast. She was a young woman, but she had the ability to heal the mind, as well as the body. She used dreams, visions, herbs, even stories and wildlife to heal her patients. Tima said the woman never had daughters to pa.s.s on the power to. When the woman died, the spirits' power had to search for another."

Sarah wasn't sure how to feel about this man who thought she was something more than she really was. "No." She shook her head and pushed the bowl away. "I'm not the one you're looking for."

The old man looked as confused. He continued to speak in a language they couldn't understand.

"Dev," Sarah's voice was excited now, "maybe Keeho could translate the language. I mean, maybe his connection with the spirits might help him understand what the old man's saying."

"Hmm, it might work." Devlin rubbed her face with one hand, working out the details of such a trip. "We should take the wagon. He doesn't look like he's fit enough to sit on a pony. Okay, a trip to the clan village it is." She paused to smile at Sarah. "Tima will be happy."

The women helped the old man settle in to sleep for what was left of the night. They went back to their bedroom, their heads full of conflicting thoughts. It wasn't long before Sarah could feel Devlin's steady heartbeat. Sarah rested her head on Devlin's chest and the comforting sound, along with her deep breaths, told Sarah that Devlin was asleep.

Sarah felt uneasy. The talk of spiritual power caused an odd fear in her, and she couldn't understand why. She lay in the dark, Devlin comfortingly at her side, but it was long hours until she relaxed enough to sleep.

Chapter 6.

"Are you comfortable enough back there?" Devlin asked over her shoulder.

"We're doing fine, Dev." Sarah laid a hand on Devlin's back. She didn't think the bouncing of the buckboard was too disturbing to the old man since he appeared to be sleeping soundly.

The women woke early, even after having missed a few hours of sleep. They discovered that their guest had begun to run a fever. He was weak but still had been able to hold down some warm broth that Sarah had prepared for him.

The rocking motion lulled Sarah into her memories of the morning. She had been preparing a thin soup over the fire when she saw the man attempt to pull his ikhish bahtushi from his traveling sack. He was weak and the pouch slid from his grasp. Sarah went to him and took the bag. She was surprised that he gave it to her so easily, but then she remembered that he was under the impression that she had some healing abilities.

Sarah examined the pouch. It was made of a single red fox skin. The head had been left attached and served as the flap to keep the bahtushi closed. Sarah opened the pouch and stared at the contents, individual pieces of deer hide tied into bundles. She wasn't sure why, but she lifted each hide-covered bundle to her nose. She found one whose smell she recognized and opened it to find six dried sa.s.safras flowers. She took two of the flowers and retied the bundle, placing everything back into the pouch.

Sarah steeped the flowers in some boiling water to make a tea, which she held for the man while he drank. Within an hour, his fever had lessened and he was able to sleep. He slept so soundly that Devlin carried his slight frame and placed him into the back of the wagon.

"How long will it take going this way, Dev?" Sarah asked.

"Longer than by pony. We'll have to skirt the sandstone cliffs and come up around the other side. I expect the better part of the day. Make sure you holler when you want me to stop so you can stretch your legs and such."

"Yes, ma'am." Sarah smiled in Devlin's direction. Sarah had grown unaccustomed to having someone watching out for her. She was usually the one who took care of everyone else. Having Devlin in her life and knowing Devlin would always look out for her well-being meant the world to her.

The small party arrived at the Thunderbird clan's village in the late afternoon. After kneeling and rubbing the red earth on the backs of their hands, Sarah and Devlin paused to greet a number of the villagers.

Tima was among the first to reach the two women and kissed her daughter's cheek. Tima pulled away from Devlin's embrace and looked up into her eyes. Tima saw it immediately. Actually, it was more what she didn't see in her daughter's features. Gone was the almost haunted look of pain. That expression was replaced with something Tima had only prayed would one day shine from the angry girl's eyes-hope.

After the two women had left the camp several weeks before to return to the white man's village, Tima had prayed daily that the spirits would open the eyes of the headstrong women. When Devlin sent word of the death of Sarah's uncle, the clan sent a representative to show their respect for Sarah. For seven days after Arthur Winston died, a young clan man kept a fire constantly burning near the gravesite. The fire was to furnish light and warmth to Art for his journey to the spirit world. Tima had sent Sarah a personal message, telling her that although they came from many different tribes, they were all one family. That had been the last news Tima had of Redhawk and Sakli.

Tima turned and swept Sarah into her arms. She could think of no better way to show her pleasure. "Yakoke, Sakli. Himmak nitak ut achukma hoke."

"You're welcome, but why is it a beautiful day?" Sarah asked in confusion. She looked at Devlin's embarra.s.sed face. Realization dawned bright. "Oh." Sarah blushed profusely.

"Nali." Devlin caught her mother's attention with the pet name, which meant "smiling one." "We can talk about us later. Right now we have a man with us who is ill. He looks like clan, but we can't understand his language. I think he might be Alikchi."

Tima turned to the bundle of blankets in the back of the wagon. Instantly, her healer's skills took over and she climbed in beside the old man. He was weak, but he attempted to speak with Tima. After a few words on her part, she gave up trying to communicate verbally and switched to hand signals. The man nodded and shook his head a few times. Tima had apparently found a way to make him understand.

"Did he have a fever?" she asked.

"Yes, earlier, but Sarah made him a tea," Devlin said.

"What did you use?" Tima turned to Sarah.

"Sa.s.safras."

"Not the root?"

"No." Sarah shook her head. "The dried flowers."

"How did you know to do this?" Tima asked.

"I, uh, I just..." Sarah paused, looking from Devlin to Tima. "I thought it was common knowledge, I suppose. I don't remember who taught me."

Tima exchanged a look with Devlin, but neither woman said anything.

"We will take him to the healer's chuka," Tima said. "I will attend to him there. Perhaps Keeho or Miko Kontonalah will understand his language, but Keeho is away in the hills sending up his offerings to Hashtahli." She explained that Keeho might be away for a fortnight while he prayed to their sun G.o.d.

Tima sent a boy to fetch her father. The white men who came to barter for goods considered Kontonalah a Miko, or chief, to the Thunderbird clan. In truth, the Choctaw didn't have one chief. Each family had a spokesperson. Kontonalah was an elder in the tribe and had been around since the age of the Old Ones. He was spokesman for seven families within the clan. The white men tended to mistake Kontonalah's revered position within the tribe as a chief. The Choctaw were too well-mannered to correct them.

Devlin and Sarah met with a few friends while Tima attended to the old man. At first, Tima had encouraged Sarah to stay with her, but when she made the offer, Sarah drew back. Tima decided to let it pa.s.s until she could talk to Redhawk.

Devlin and Sarah found their way to the healer's chuka as Kontonalah exited the dwelling. He greeted his granddaughter and her lover with his usual open smile and wry sense of humor.

"Halito, ippok tek." Kontonalah always called her granddaughter when they first met. Then he would call her by her clan name, Redhawk.

"h.e.l.lo to you as well, Grandfather. Are you well?" Devlin said as she embraced him.

"Omi, I am well," he said, offering a smile to Sarah. "You know nothing of this stranger?" Kontonalah started right in by questioning Devlin about the old man. They spoke quickly and Sarah added as much information as she could.

"Do you understand his language?" Devlin asked. "It sounds familiar."

"Keyu." Kontonalah shook his head. "You are right. His language does sound as if I have heard it before. He is definitely iksa."

Sarah looked at Devlin in confusion. She had learned to speak the clan's language very well, but this word confused her. "This clan?" she asked Devlin.

"Iksa achafa?" Devlin repeated Sarah's question to her grandfather.

"Iksa inla," Kontonalah clarified.

"He means that he's from a different clan," Devlin said. "How can he be Chahta, Grandfather, and still speak with another tongue?"

"He is an Old One," Kontonalah said matter-of-factly. "The speakers of the earth. Keeho will know more when he returns." He looked around and breathed deeply. "It is a good afternoon to go fishing. Redhawk, I shall go fishing."

Devlin rolled her eyes in Sarah's direction. This was one of the many things about her people that infuriated her at times. They believed that everything happened for a reason and in its own time. Her grandfather was neither concerned nor curious, or if he was, he kept it to himself. Devlin saw that questioning him further would be futile. His mind was already on other things.

"It's all right," Sarah said before Devlin could explain that Kontonalah had commanded her to go with him. "I'll see if I can be any help to Tima."

Kontonalah had turned to leave when Devlin lightly pressed her lips to Sarah's forehead and smiled shyly. Devlin didn't understand why she should all of a sudden feel bashful in the village, but she did. Her clan had never been reserved about expressing emotions or affection in public.

Out of the corner of her eye, Devlin saw a few young men hanging about the fringes of the camp. Some of the faces were new to Devlin and she wanted to be sure the braves understood her relationship with Sarah before she left her there.

Devlin looked into Sarah's face and kissed her in a way that left little doubt as to the nature of their relationship. Both women pulled away feeling weak in the knees, but Devlin followed Kontonalah with a spring in her step. She enjoyed the deflated expressions on the faces of the young men she pa.s.sed.

Sarah chuckled to herself as she turned to enter the chuka. Part of her reveled in belonging to Devlin. Deep down, she enjoyed the fact that Devlin felt so fiercely in her love for her. Of course, being the woman she was, Sarah felt just as strongly about her independence. Today, and after a kiss such as the one they just shared, Sarah was taking pleasure in the former.

Sarah pulled aside the deerskin hide that covered the opening to the chuka and called out to Tima for permission to enter.

"Ant chukoa." Tima invited Sarah inside the darkened abode. This was the ikhish chuka, the medicine lodge. Set apart from the other chukas, it was larger than other dwellings and Sarah remembered it well, having awakened there from her own illness and seeing Tima's smiling face greet her.

Sarah entered and sat beside Tima. She looked down at the still sleeping man and wondered if he hadn't slipped into a coma. She noticed the rise and fall of his chest and his raspy, uneven breathing.

Reading Sarah's thoughts, Tima said, "He is still breathing, that is a good thing. It was smart of you to keep his fever down. I think I'll put a poultice on his chest. It may help."

"What can I do to help?" Sarah asked as Tima removed the man's deer hide shirt.

"You can start to prepare the poultice. My ikhish itampo is there beside the fire. We will use chuchupate, I think. Will you bring my ikhish bahta?"

Sarah found the wooden medicine bowl beside the fire. She picked up the animal skin medicine bag that Tima kept her herbs and roots in. The pelt appeared to be from a beaver, its hard, flat tail still attached to the hide. Tima had sewn the bag into an oblong shape.

Sarah sat beside Tima. Tima noticed that Sarah had set the medicine bag onto the small woven mat beside the man. Sarah then placed the bowl upon the flat tail of the beaver pelt. Tima watched with eyes that at first narrowed in suspicion, but then went wide in surprise.

"Did I do something wrong, Nali?" Sarah asked.

Tima couldn't hide her smile when Sarah used Devlin's pet name for her. "You have been most helpful, Sakli. Now would you continue to help me?" She rubbed her hands together. "These old hands feel the hashtula coming."

"Of course. What shall I do?"

Tima directed Sarah with each step. Tima chanted and sang as Sarah mixed the pulverized root with melted buffalo tallow. Tima then applied the paste to the man's chest and covered it with a soft piece of hide. Tima's healing was physical. She sang and prayed a bit, but it was nothing like what Sarah had seen Keeho perform on ill clan members.

Tima showed Sarah how to soap her hands with a beige powder and a basin of water. The powder was dried yucca root, ground and stored in a red clay jar. As soon as Sarah wet her hands and rubbed the powder into them, the mixture formed a frothy soap. Then they each offered a small amount of sage into the fire. They cupped their hands and drew the smoke to them, cleansing their bodies with the sacred smoke.

They left the chuka and walked away from the camp, going nowhere in particular. Each woman appeared lost in her own thoughts.

"How is it that your healing methods are so much different from Keeho's?" Sarah asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, actually, Dev...I mean Redhawk...she tried to explain the difference between what you do and what Keeho does. She said the old man we brought in here thought I was some kind of medicine woman."

Tima never altered her stride, but she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. "And you are confused by our differences, or do you wish to know why this Old One thought of you in such a way?"

"I'm not really sure what I'm asking," Sarah said. "I know that watching you heal feels very right. It's not that I have anything against Keeho, but he frightens me. He watches me as if he doesn't trust me, but it can't be because I'm not clan because I've seen him look at Redhawk the same way."

"Keeho is a good man," Tima said. "The spirits speak through him, and the love he has for his people is great."

"I suppose it could be just me that he doesn't like."

"He cares for you very deeply, Sakli, as he does for my Redhawk. I believe he acts the way he does toward you because he fears you."

"He's afraid of me, but-"

"He fears your power, and from what I have seen, perhaps he is right."

"What power could I possibly hold over a shaman?" Sarah asked in disbelief.

They came upon a stream and Tima led Sarah to a group of flat sandstone rocks. Tima sat and indicated that Sarah rest beside her. She plucked a long blade of drying gra.s.s from the ground and bit on one end. She was deep in thought as she wrestled with how much to tell Sarah. Too much could frighten, but not enough would confuse her.

"You have power in the white man's world now."

"Yes, I suppose by their standards I do."

"To hold power in the clan is neither political nor based on economics. Sometimes status and material possessions come from it, but power within the clan comes from the spirits and whatever destiny they have selected for you." Tima paused and noticed that Sarah was listening intently.

"Women have power simply because they are female. We are given the knowledge of fruitfulness in our ability to bear children, and we are blessed with the knowledge of blood in our cycle of the moon. In the white man's world, how do people know who you are?"

"Well, I suppose by my reputation or my name. It's my father's name, but then I married and took my husband's name, so that might be confusing."

"In the Thunderbird clan, I am known by my mother. If someone asks me who my mother was, my answer identifies me. When Tekola took me as his bride, he came to live with my mother's clan. Most of the clans that I am familiar with acknowledge the power that automatically lies within a woman. I have heard of a clan that gives as equal a value to a woman who dies during childbirth as a brave dying in war." Tima watched as Sarah processed the information.

"Why do you tell me this, Nali?"

"Because you have power, Sakli. You have the power of a thousand generations of women in you, but you are also powerful for other reasons. You and Redhawk are ohoyo yukpali. It is nothing to cause shame, such as your people have caused you to think. You are unique women placed in our path by the spirits to teach us something special. The spirits have blessed you with a power so great that it can override that of men, and I think Keeho understands that. It is why he fears you. There is one last reason that Keeho may have found to add to his fear." Tima's forehead creased. Again, she wondered how much she should reveal. It was difficult to be less than honest with Sarah.