Revenge of Eagles

“If I had killed her, I would not have brought her to you,” Falcon said. “I would have run with fear from the rightful anger of Keytano, the great warrior and chief of the mighty Apache.”

“I think this is true. I think you did not kill her.” Again, Keytano spoke in his own language, and the two Apache lowered their war clubs.

Seeing his two would-be attackers backing off, Falcon put his guns away.

Cloud Dancer’s mother was sitting on the ground now, her head on Cloud Dancer’s chest. She was still weeping, though the loud wails had given way to a quiet sobbing.

“Why did you bring her to me?”

“I met Yaakos Gan on the stagecoach as she was returning from school in the East,” Falcon said. “She was a woman of much courage and much honor. When she was killed, I knew she would want to come back to her own people.”

Keytano pointed to Falcon. “You are a man of courage and honor. I thank you for bringing her here to me and to her mother who now weeps over her.”

Keytano said something in Apache to the weeping woman and she looked up at Falcon. Falcon nodded in sympathy, but said nothing.

“Do not leave,” Keytano said. “After we have seen to my daughter, we will talk.”

“I will stay to pay my respects to Yaakos Gan; then we will talk,” Falcon said.

Keytano spoke again to his people and Falcon stepped back, then watched as the village began making preparations for Cloud Dancer’s funeral.

The first thing they did was take her out of the shroud and wrap her face in a piece of cloth. Next, they completely stripped her, apparently showing no concern for the fact that she was now naked. That situation changed quickly, however, when they clothed her in a dress that was more in keeping with her Indian tradition. After that, they folded her arms across her chest, though this was difficult, as rigor mortis had already set in. Her hair was parted and brushed smooth with a hairbrush. Her wrists were covered with bracelets and beads, and around her neck, her mother placed a squash-blossom necklace of silver and turquoise. Finally, they laid her on a litterlike bed of reeds, and a medicine man circled around her, scattering ashes and pollen to the four cardinal directions. Following the scattering of ashes and pollen, everyone in the village grew very quiet.

Nobody told Falcon that this was a part of the ceremony, but it was his way to watch and learn, so he found a place to sit and wait, watching as the Indians maintained their silence.

Then, after about an hour of silence, a gourd of tiswin was passed around and several took a drink. When the gourd was brought to Falcon, he drank as well. He had tasted tiswin before and knew that it was an alcoholic beverage made of fermented corn and fruit. In strength, it was equal to a rather weak beer, but it didn’t taste as good as beer. Like many things in the Apache culture, though, tiswin was more important for its ritual application than for its ability to bring on intoxication.

After all had a drink of tiswin, the wailing for the dead woman began in earnest, with every man, woman, and child in the village howling like a coyote. After a few minutes of this, the chief medicine man stepped into the center of the circle and held up his hands to call for quiet.

When the howling ceased, the medicine man prayed, and spoke words of condolence.

“Hio esken eskingo boyonsidda?” the medicine man asked. Then he glanced toward Falcon.

“So that Dlo Binanta will know the sorrow he has brought to our people, I will speak in English.

“Where is this woman now? We don’t know. Where will she be day after tomorrow? We don’t know. Where will she be ten years from now? We don’t know. It is not for us to say where she will be. It is for Usen, he who resides in the mountains, to receive into O’zho ... heaven ... the spirit of this woman.”

Two warriors lifted the reed bed upon which the body of Cloud Dancer lay. They started toward the nearby hills, with the entire village following. Falcon followed as well.

Once they reached the hills, they set her down, then looked about for a bit until someone shouted and pointed. Falcon saw that he was pointing toward a crevice between two layers of rock. The others hurried to him, and after some consultation, which at times grew into heated discussion, the village elders, and especially Keytano, decided that this crevice would do.

“This is where our sister will lie as she waits for Usen,” the medicine man said.

They rolled Cloud Dancer’s body off the litter—rather unceremoniously, Falcon thought. For a moment she lay at the lip of the crevice, but several of the villagers pushed and shoved her body until it was well down into the crevice. After that, they covered it with dirt and rocks until the crevice was so completely closed that to the casual passerby there was little evidence that it even existed.

After Cloud Dancer was interred, ashes and pollen were sprinkled in a circle around what was now her grave. They began at the southwest corner and laid the ashes and pollen down in a rather intricate pattern the meaning of which was lost on Falcon.

Seeing Falcon’s respectful interest, Keytano pointed to the elaborate design.

“This is the story of the life of Yaakos Gan,” Keytano said, pointing to one end of the design. “She was born at the time of the great burning of grass.” He continued through the pattern, showing other milestones in her life. “Here the elk ran, and here the father of her mother died.” He continued until he reached the part where she went East to go to the white man’s school. That was the end of the design because, as Keytano explained, they did not know what events occurred while she was away.

After the burial all returned to the village.

“Come,” Keytano said. “You are now my guest.”

Falcon knew that he was more than simply a guest. If he tried to leave now, he would be taking his life into his own hands. He nodded at Keytano.

“I will be pleased to stay with you and honor your daughter with my mourning.”