The Land. Robert K. Swisher Jr.

squirm in her new feelings of love.

      Shining Moon opened his eyes and poked the dying fire with a stick. Placing several small cedar sticks on the embers, he brought the fire back to life. But even the fire was not like the warmth he felt for Flying Bird. Flying Bird was his soul and strength, his waking and sleeping moments. She was in the brightness of the stars and the sweep of wind over a hawk’s feathers. She was with him in all things. She was like the land, mother of all creation, strength to him and is people.

      Shining Moon once again picked up the rough piece of obsidian. He held the stone up towards the stars and then placed it over his heart and in a muted whisper he prayed. “Stars, dark, moon and earth, give to this stone my heart, make it live with the beating of my heart, make it perfect like the living earth and make it warm to the touch of my woman and my love.” He placed the rough obsidian once more in the deer hide and carefully wrapped it up with the tools. It was not time to start chipping. There would be a time but he knew this was not the time. The bundle wrapped and tied with sinew, Shining Moon looked out into the darkness for the shapes of his ponies. Squinting his eyes he could see the shadowed forms of the five horses. He loved Flying Bird even more than his horses and for his horses he would die.

      Shining Moon stood and stretched. It had been many weeks since he had been with the tribe. Many weeks since the Old Man had had the dream. Life had been much easier before the old man’s dream. Several days before the dream Shining Moon had gathered all his strength and taken six of his best horses and walked through the milling pueblo. He had walked straight and tall to the home of Sleeping Bear and in respect called out to Sleeping Bear. “Sleeping Bear, I bring you truth of my love.” Sleeping Bear had been pre-warned by his wife in time Shining Moon would come and in keeping with tradition he did not immediately come to the door but stayed inside smiling and poking his old wife. With a smile Mother pushed him towards the door and Shining Moon swallowed trying to find his voice. “I bring you these horses of mine and blankets to go with them for the hand of your daughter.” Sleeping Bear scratched his head and pulled tentatively on a large turquoise earring in his left ear lobe. He looked past Shining Moon at the horses. They were fine strong animals, well fed and groomed. Walking past Shining Moon, Sleeping Bear touched each of the animals and then turned. “They do not look like very good horses to me for such a daughter as I have.”

      Shining Moon did not speak but watched anxiously as Sleeping Bear filled his pipe slowly still eyeing the horses. They were fine horses, too fine for an old man, but he could trade them for many good things. Baskets and blankets for his wife, bear and elk meat for the winter.

      Sleeping Bear without speaking went back into his home and returned, his pipe lit with a coal from the fire. He eyed the young man. Such a strong and brave man he was. Standing with his hair greased and parted, two hawk feathers moving slightly in the breeze from his hair. He was naked from the waist up and wore only a leather loin cloth and short moccasins. His muscles were long and lean, taut from many days on his horses. But mostly the old man looked into the young warrior’s eyes. It was through the eyes one peered into a man’s soul. And in Shining Moon’s eyes he saw a sadness, a depth that most men did not have, especially warriors. Warriors were usually rash and wild. They used their women, more content to sit by the fire with other men and tell of their battles and deeds. But in Shining Moon’s eyes Sleeping Bear could see deep knowledge, a feeling, the look of a leader — a man not only of action but words. In time maybe a warrior chief, a man of decisions.

      Shining Moon watched the old man. Inside himself the world was turning. He felt sweat forming between his shoulder blades and a cold icy feeling creeping into his heart. He must consent. If not he would steal Flying Bird. They would creep from the tribe to live as outcasts if they must. He would take her far away from the people. Far away to another tribe if he had to. She would come. He knew she would come with him.

      Inside the hogan Flying Bird could not contain herself. She listened as her mother and grandmother talked around the fire.

      “It is of no good,” Mother spoke.

      “He is only a warrior with lousy horses,” Grandmother said. Both women kept themselves so Flying Bird could not get close to the door of the hogan and hear the words of Sleeping Bear.

      To Flying Bird it was as though time had stopped. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a tiny frightened bird in a net. Her fingers were like the cold ice of winter and her tongue lay dry and lifeless in her mouth. If Sleeping Bear did not consent to the marriage, she would surely go out into the wilderness around the pueblo and kill herself. There was no life, no reason for being without Shining Moon. Surely she could not live with a broken heart. But try as she may, Mother and Grandmother would not let her get close enough to the door to listen to the conversation of Shining Moon.

      By now the word had spread around the tribe that Shining Moon was vying for the heart of Flying Bird, and all the old women and men and children were forming a large circle around the poor anxious warrior. Giggles and laughs circulated throughout the crowd. But they were not mocking sounds. Some people whispered: He will not give her — Sleeping Bear does not like him. Others felt he would without doubt get the hand of Flying Bird. All looked at Shining Moon and saw in him the look of love.

      Sleeping Bear knocked the ashes from his pipe and then with eyes glowing he looked at Shining Moon. “I will take these horses, but you must bring me one more.”

      Shining Moon felt the tensions drain from his body and he cringed at the old man. “I will bring you one more horse in the morning.” Sleeping Bear looked at the horses and smiled. He knew he could have asked for five more horses and the young man would have given them.

      Shining Moon turned, his heart on fire, and walked through the group, proud and happy. Sleeping Bear entered the hogan and looked at the two women and then at his daughter. And then with a smile he spoke: “You will marry Shining Moon in one month’s time.”

      Flying Bird sank to the ground and began crying. The two women came to her side and cried with her. Women, Sleeping Bear thought, they cry over everything.

      As the sun rose the next morning, Shining Moon returned with the horse. He tethered the horse to the pole outside the mud home and sat down.

      When Sleeping Bear came out in the morning, he stood. “Come with me, my son,” he spoke as they walked towards the bushes. The rest of the pueblo was just waking, dogs barked and fires were rekindled. Standing by a tree, Sleeping Bear began to speak.

      “For the next month you may come and see my daughter in the evening. You will sit by our fire and eat with us. You may not touch her or speak to her directly. Any question you have you may ask Mother or Grandmother and they in turn will ask Flying Bird who will answer them and they will answer you. You will not be with her in camp nor sneak with her to the trees. This is my wish, this is my demand. You will at all times treat my daughter with respect and as your equal. She will be the staff in your life and the keeper of your soul.” Sleeping Bear turned and looked at the young man and placed his hand on his shoulder. “You will make me proud.”

      Sleeping Bear began to walk slowly and Shining Moon strode beside him. Around them the earth began to awaken. Birds began to sing and a warm breeze started to blow. Sleeping Bear began to speak once again. “We are nothing but men, my son, who must keep up with our world and learn how to survive. Right now the world is nothing but love to you. There is the song of my daughter in all you see and do. But this will pass as all passes. We are but moments of time. Little pieces of life that are but darting flames. Look around you,” and Sleeping Bear spread his arm out and circled the land around him. “This is the true mother, this is the tree, keeper of your soul. A woman is a companion but the land is our life. You must never forget this.” And the old man stooped over and took a handful of the dry earth and held it out to Shining Moon. “This is my present to you, this is my wish for you and my daughter. Let your love be tempered by the mother earth. Let your hearts never sorrow for each other and hold always to the truth between yourselves.”

      Shining Moon held out his hand and took the handful of dirt. He would put it in a pouch and place it with his other medicine things.

      Two nights later Shining Moon sat in the home of Sleeping Bear. Flying Bird was in the