The winter snows were very late this year, but in the days before Cameahwait had embarked on his vision quest, he had shown Adam the signs that the snows were finally on their way. He had taken him down to the creek and pointed out the family of muskrats that were burying deeper than usual into the creek bank. And hunters returning from high above the tree line told of finches gorging themselves on insects. The signs had been heeded, preparations made, and now it was time to move.
It took several days for the villagers to reach the lower grounds. But they had been prepared, and with an efficiency and speed that impressed even the meticulously hardworking Adam, the tepees had been pulled down, packed up and bundled on to the backs of speedily constructed travois within hours of the village awakening. The ponies began the descent with the families walking besides them wrapped in several layers of blankets and furs.
At first Adam recognised the route they took. The trek down the mountainside was the same as that which he had travelled on the ill-fated visit to the trading post. But then the route changed and he could tell they were journeying south, following the line of mountains as it stretched into the distance. They stayed within the forests, camping under hastily constructed wickiups each night to keep the worst of the winter weather from them. But the further south they travelled and the lower they descended, the less snow they encountered, before eventually they arrived in a shallow valley where the winter village was to be established. Cameahwait described it as the low place in the high mountains. They knew the snows would follow them down but at the lower levels the villagers stood a chance of survival without the crushing levels of snowfall which meant they would be unable to hunt. They and their animals would surely starve.
Just as quickly as the tepees had been pulled down, they were erected. The poles, which had been used to make the travois, were hoisted into position to form a skeleton before the animal hides were sewn into position, held together with wooden pins. Adam watched as Wanekia and Luyu erected first Cameahwait's family lodge and then started to work on Adam and Wanekia's home. He was amazed at the speed and dexterity with which they worked. In no time the lodges were occupying the once empty valley and the horses were safely corralled. Fires were lit and food from their precious winter stores was consumed. The men would soon need to hunt again for the smaller creatures that abounded in the lower lands. And now more than ever was a time for conserving their stores. The nuts, seeds and dried berries gathered that autumn were stored in pits lined with bark.
As the evenings grew longer, the families would gather together around the fire and stories would be told of the earliest times when the earth was new born and the only creatures to walk the earth were the creator, Sinawav, and the Coyote. Otetiani was particularly keen to tell of the adventures that Coyote enjoyed. He would orate the tales in his slow, careful manner with the children hanging on every word and the adults nodding their heads as they heard the hidden meanings behind the words. Adam listened in as rapt attention as the children; he had never heard the stories before and it was the perfect way to increase his dictionary of Ute words. The slow oration meant he could follow the stories and when a new word was said he was able to work out what it meant from the actions of the children as they play acted the story.
They had been down in the lowlands for a handful of weeks when Wanekia told Adam that she was with child. She was always the first one to rise in the morning, enshrouding herself in a blanket to feed the fire. Adam would watch her as she bent over her work, carefully laying a collection of twigs in the fire pit and covering it with dried pine needles and leaves to catch the spark from two rocks that she struck together. She would carefully build up the fire with larger pieces of firewood until the flames were roaring nicely and casting a welcome heat around the lodge. But this morning she hadn't moved from his side.
When Adam awoke he saw that Kia had her back to him, curled up with her head tucked closely against the fur blanket, her face hidden. Her breathing was shaky and Adam knew she was awake. Concerned he had gently tugged on her shoulder and pulled her over on to her back. He had leant over her and seen that her cheeks were wet and had gathered her up in his arms murmuring comforting words to ease her distress. And when he had asked what sorrowed her, she had clung tightly to him and whispered in his ear, "I carry your child within me, Liwanu." Adam had pushed back, a frown creasing his forehead as he looked into her eyes but he could find no words. Wanekia spoke again. "You are going to be a father, Liwanu." And Adam had shaken his head as a wide beam broke out on his face and he had clutched her to him and laughed with joy. But after a few moments he had pulled back and looked into her eyes again. "But why are you sad, Kia?" he had asked. "Aren't you happy?" Wanekia had smiled. "Oh so happy my love," she had replied, and she had lain her palm against his cheek. "But what if this child should die, like my lost baby?" Her fear brought tears to her eyes once more and Adam had held her to him and murmured close to her ear that she wouldn't lose this child too; she had a Cartwright baby in her belly, and the Cartwrights were strong, they were fighters, she had nothing to fear. As Wanekia calmed and began to smile again, Adam knew what he had said wasn't strictly true. He could no more hold back the ravages of a childhood sickness than hold back the tides of the sea. But he had to believe, for Kia's sake as much as for his own.
XXXXXXX
Adam's life moved with the seasons. He had always been attuned to the different times of year, as were his father and brothers; it came with living the life of a rancher. But the earth now spoke to him in a different way than it had before.
It struck Adam on awaking one morning that the days were starting to lengthen again, that the early mornings didn't seem as dark as they were. And he realised with a start that he had missed the turn of the New Year and Christmas. His weeks of incapacity had thrown his calendar out of whack and although he'd thought he had a rough idea of at least what month it was, it was a shock to realise that it must be January. How strange to think he had missed Christmas. He had lain back and recalled the family celebrations: watching Joe and Hoss struggle through the front door on Christmas Eve, laden down with the biggest tree they could manage, brushing the snow off their thick coats, and causing puddles of water to splash across the floor. Sometimes it had been like trying to get a camel through the eye of a needle, but after much heaving and tugging and Hop Sing's admonitions at the mess they were making, they would get that tree through the door and to its place by the hearth. And once decorated with candles and baubles it would lighten the large room like a warning lighthouse beacon on a stormy coast. The room would smell of pine from the tree and from the garlands that were thread around the staircase and over the mantle. And the food, oh, the food: a huge turkey, lashings of cranberry sauce, Hop Sing's special dumplings and to finish off apple pie. It was a feast fit for a king. Adam had had to cover his eyes with the back of his hand as he realised there would be no more Christmas celebrations with his family. He had missed them at that moment so fiercely that his eyes had reddened and become moist with tears. Wanekia had stirred next to him, aware of her husband's despair. Instinctively she knew that he was missing his family and so moved his hand from his eyes and gently wiped the wetness from his cheeks, kissing his eyes to stay the tears. Adam had choked out a laugh and dismissed his anguish by searching out her lips and reaching out his hand to lie over the slight bulge of Wanekia's growing belly.
XXXXXXX
The winter was hard, harder than they had anticipated and tougher than it should have been in the lowlands. The late snows hit with a vengeance confining the villagers to their tepees for several weeks. The men sat around the fires working on their hunting weapons: sharpening knifes and spearheads. Adam had mastered the art of making arrowheads and could make as many, and as well crafted, as the more experienced men in the village. In return he showed the men how to clean the few rifles in their possession, explaining the need to keep the rifle bore clear of rust and deposits. This was also a good time to repair the nets that would be used for fishing and catching small game. As he worked, Adam's eyes would be drawn to the women working on the other side of the fire, searching out Wanekia, and watching as she made new clothing and repaired old shirts and leggings. They were surviving off dried berries, seeds and stews made from pinyon nuts, yet Adam worried that Kia wasn't getting enough food at this time when she needed it the most. As the winter months seemed to stretch out in front of them with no signs of the snows abating, and their meagre supplies of jerky beginning to run low, Adam would find himself watching the sky for any indication that the snows would stop. It reminded him to a certain extent of being snowed in to the Ponderosa ranch house for weeks on end, cut off from the outside world, and enduring the same meals from their supplies day after day. Hop Sing could work wonders but even he could only do so much with a rapidly dwindling supply of herbs and spices and no supply of fresh fruit and vegetables. The Indians' food supply was even more limited and as Adam passed over half of his ration of food to Wanekia and their unborn child, he knew he was starting to lose weight fast.
Wanekia suffered greatly at this time. With the child growing inside her she felt nauseous from the moment she awoke in the morning. Oftentimes she would scramble to her feet, grabbing for the nearest blanket and lurch outside to lose the contents of her stomach into the snow. She would return to the lodge, shivering and exhausted. The reduced supply of food didn't help, and despite Adam handing over as much of his ration as he could spare, she still felt sick for much of the time. She was listless with fatigue and yet struggled to sleep at night. She would toss and turn under their blankets, and if Adam was awoken in the small hours by her continual shifting, he would suddenly find his wife edging towards him, her hand creeping down his chest and below his waist, waking him even further as she moved across his body. Her condition seemed to only increase her appetite for him.
Kia's nausea gradually lessened and with it came the first signs of spring. The snows were a lot less severe now and the rise in temperatures brought life back to the valley. The icicles that hung like sharp pointed fingers from the trees started to melt in earnest. Wildflowers which had stayed safely nestled in the earth beneath the blanket of snow, responded to the increasing warmth and the snow melt, and pushed their tiny shoots above the ground. Within weeks the shallow hills of the valley were swathed in a stunning display of azure blue, startling yellow and flaming crimson blooms. Birdsong was heard for the first time that year, and Cameahwait kept an eye open for the sound of his spirit guide overhead. The men of the village would leave for several days at a time on the hunt to replenish their dwindling supply of food, returning with catches of squirrels and birds. The village boys had been set to work in the nearby rivers to catch a plentiful supply of trout. The lengthening days created an air of rejuvenation in the village; after the enforced confinement of the winter months it felt good to be outside, breathing in the fresh clean air and feeling the sun on their skin again.
Adam's child clearly showed now. And Wanekia's amorous, but more than welcome, advances towards Adam didn't cease. He worried that he would hurt her or the child during their lively love making. But when he raised his concerns Kia would put her fingers on his mouth and silence his fears with her assurances that nothing he could do would cause harm to either of them. She would then take his hand and place it on her breast and Adam's fears would be forgotten.
As spring edged into summer and the days grew longer and warmer, Adam came to realise that he had fallen into a way of life that suited him. It wasn't a slow realisation; rather it hit him with a jolt one afternoon as the village participated in a rabbit drive. It was a family affair with everyone joining in. Adam joined one of the two long lines of people, steadily moving in towards each other across the low valley. There weren't many rabbits at first, but gradually the creatures were forced out of their cover and bounded ahead of their long legged opponents who blocked off their escape route. As the lines of people became closer, there was only one way the rabbits could go, straight into the netting that crossed their paths. There the creatures were speedily clubbed to death, yielding a bountiful harvest of meat and fur for the village. The villagers told anecdotes as they moved slowly across the land, their hands held wide to stop any stray creature from doubling back and flying between their legs. There was laughter and tomfoolery, and as Adam neared the nets and noticed Wanekia already hard at work skinning the fur off a large rabbit, he stopped in his tracks and looked around him at the people who had become his friends and now treated him as one of their own. He was happy with these people, here, now.
His days were a round of hunting for meat, gathering food and maintaining weaponry; and at night, after the evening meal, of sitting around the fire listening to stories. And later, when it was just the two of them alone in their lodge, there was the ecstasy of Kia's body, now even more wondrous to him than it had been before. With a plentiful supply of food again, her arms had become rounder, her breasts were fuller and her skin glowed as the child grew within her. His existence was simple. Gone were the business negotiations, contracts, payrolls, recruitment of ranch-hands. He was surprised that he didn't miss it. Life moved with the seasons and Adam's only responsibility now was for his wife and unborn child. And life would be almost perfect if it wasn't for the constant needling in his heart that wouldn't go away. For no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't curtail the sorrow that would wash over his soul when he thought of his brothers or his father. The grief had lessened but it hadn't died. It was always there harrying away at him. A crease would line his brow and his eyebrows draw together when a memory struck him from the blue. Occasionally he would stop dead in his tracks before shaking his head, trying to banish the remembrance, and continuing on.
Adam's relapses into the intrusions of his memory did not go unnoticed by either Wanekia or Cameahwait. A simple touch from Kia would be enough to draw Adam back to the present; Cameahwait, however, felt more draconian measures were needed. He took Adam on a trek across the low valleys on the pretext of looking for fresh hunting ground. Adam wasn't fooled. He knew that the Ute knew this country intimately, that there was no corner of a valley or ridge on a mountain that they didn't know down to the tiniest rock or individual tree. But he went along with the ruse and when they had settled back on their haunches to consume some dried meat and berries, he waited patiently for Cameahwait to speak.
"You see the faces of your blood, Liwanu." It was a statement, not a question. Cameahwait spoke matter-of-factly, his head tilted to one side as he gnawed on a piece of jerky.
Adam glanced over at him then levelled his gaze on the distant horizon. "I see them, Cam."
"And yet, your visions bring you sadness, my friend."
"I see something that reminds me of them and the memory is good," Adam picked up a long blade of grass, running it through his fingers, "and then I remember that they are dead, that I won't look upon their faces, hear their voices…"
Cameahwait looked at Adam, at the sorrow that once more etched lines into his forehead, made the hazel eyes darken as his loss ate away at his friend's spirit.
"You must let them go, my friend. You keep their souls tied to this earth with your sorrow. Free them, so they can…" Cameahwait waved his hand upwards towards the sky.
Adam didn't answer. He kept his eyes fixed on the blade of grass, turning it over and over between his fingers. Eventually, he flashed a look at Cameahwait before turning back to pull more grass from the earth.
"I can't."
"You must."
"I can't just… forget them… Cam. They are a part of me, of who I am."
Cameahwait gave up on the piece of jerky, wiping his hands on the grass. He twisted in Adam's direction.
"Liwanu, look at yourself now. You are more Ute than white man. Look!"
Cameahwait was right. From a distance or even at first glance close up, Adam would be taken for an Indian. His days spent outside from dawn to dusk meant his skin was darker than ever from the sun; his hair had grown several inches and was now held back at the nape of his neck by a leather thong. He hadn't regained all the weight he'd lost over the winter, leaving a leaner look to his limbs. The corded muscles in his forearms rippled under the skin as he worked. His face looked longer with sharper cheekbones. And whereas he had once felt uncomfortable in the Indian garb, he now embraced it for the comfort it provided. He had long abandoned his leather boots in favour of the soft moccasins, which although not as waterproof, provided stealth when he was hunting and were easy to kick on and off as he entered the lodges. He still wore the choker of beads that Cameahwait had given him to visit the trading post and Wanekia had made him a beaded necklace with a large stone pendant as a gift. Any physical resemblance to Adam Cartwright, the rancher, no long existed. Physically, an onlooker would only see Liwanu, the Ute Indian.
"Your memories keep you tied to the white man's world." Cameahwait knew what he would say next would be hard for Adam to hear. "You have a Ute wife and a child who is neither Ute nor of your people. You must let go of the memories of your family, you must become Ute so your child will not live his life as one not welcome wherever he goes."
Again, Cameahwait was right. Adam knew the difficulties that faced his child, growing up as a half-breed in a world that didn't tolerate children who came from mixed parentage. To the whites they were considered to be dangerous with 'savage' blood in their veins; whereas the Indians looked equally askew at those who carried the blood of the white man in their veins.
Adam stayed silent.
"Your child will be well cared for and loved, Liwanu, but what happens when he leaves the village, when he seeks out the people of his father…"
Adam sighed and looked again to the horizon.
"You still don't know why your spirit guide wanted you to find me, do you?" Adam looked over at Cameahwait. "It's still a mystery as to why you needed to bring me to your people?"
"That is so, Liwanu. I may never know the reason. But…" he paused and twisted so he was facing Adam face on, "…you are strong, a good man to live amongst my people. Wanekia cares for you, and… you are my friend."
Adam looked into the sincere face of the man he considered a friend too. It was a big decision to make, to decide to let go of his white heritage, to stay with these people forever. But the decision wasn't one that he needed to mull over. He knew he wasn't going anywhere. His place was here now. With the village, with Cameahwait, Kia and his child.
He reached over and the two men clasped their forearms together. Adam nodded.
"What must I do?"
XXXXXXX
Adam was barefoot and stripped down to his leggings when supportive hands pushed him through the narrow entrance to the sweat lodge and deposited him on the hot earth. Water poured over hot stones sent steam billowing around him and for a few moments he gasped for air whilst his lungs struggled to adapt to the lack of oxygen in the confined space.
It was a few days after his talk with Cameahwait in the flat vales surrounding the village. Cam had explained that Adam should undergo a purification ritual in a steam lodge far from the village. That way the blood coursing through his veins would be cleansed of the taint of the white man and, on successful completion, he would be seen as full Ute. He had left Wanekia early that morning, holding her close to him in the seclusion of their lodge. The feel of her lips on his lingered long after he had left the village, following behind Cameahwait, Hanska and Nashoba as they trekked towards the warmer desert lands. After a day and night had passed Cameahwait came to a place, hidden amongst the rising ridges of the desert's edge where he decreed the ritual would take place. Adam was instructed to sit, to take no part in the construction of the wickiup, so he watched as the men hacked away at sparse shrubbery and entwined them over the long supple branches of saplings they had gathered on their way. Adam hadn't been allowed to eat since they'd left the village and could only sip small amounts of water, so he was glad to sit and let the other men do the hard work. He was developing a headache from lack of water and had to endure another night without food and only sips of fluid. But at sun-up, the fire was lit and stones placed inside to heat up. It was time for the ritual to begin.
Adam was told to remove his moccasins and tunic. He then watched as Cameahwait had blended herbs together and added the mixture to a skin of water.
"Drink," he had intoned to Adam. "All."
Adam had upended the skin to his mouth, tipped his head back and gulped the water down. It had a bitter taste to it - that must be the herbs – he thought, but he didn't care. He could feel the fluid hit his empty stomach and it felt nourishing and delicious.
The men sat unspeaking outside the wickiup. Adam wasn't sure what they were waiting for but then he felt his stomach roil and he was hurrying to turn around and on his hands and knees heaving up the water he had consumed. He sat back down, his face wet from sweat, and looked blearily at the men who stared back at him as he carefully dropped to his butt. Cameahwait handed him another skin, indicating to drink again. This time it was harder, his throat closed at the bitter taste and each time he put the skin down, Cameahwait was there, forcing it up to his lips. "You must drink it all, Liwanu."
Adam forced the bitter liquid down, and as before, after a short time, he was throwing it up again. His body temperature flared as adrenaline raced through him and his face and torso were now coated in sweat. His hair stuck in long strands to the side of his head.
"Enough," said Cameahwait. "You are ready."
Arms picked him up and manoeuvred him through the makeshift flap into the sweat lodge. He was left alone on the hot, sandy earth, his stomach in knots from the vomiting. He curled up into a foetal position, his fingers digging into the sand as his empty stomach spasmed after its ordeal. The heat was unbearable. He was already burning up, but added to that was the heat from the steaming rocks and the hot steam and Adam was gasping for breath. He lay still. If he didn't move, his stomach wouldn't react, and if he could only calm himself down and get his breathing under control…
He became aware of sounds outside the lodge. He could hear chanting and the beat of a drum. The chant was rhythmical and Adam found himself closing his eyes and drifting off as the heat and lack of oxygen and his weakness affected his ability to stay awake. The singing was ever present. He thought he slept but wasn't sure. He was only aware of the beat of the drum which matched the rhythm of the blood pumping through his veins as it pulsed in his temples. After a while his stomach seemed to have calmed and Adam uncurled himself, flipping carefully over onto his back. He was so hot and his leggings were stuck to him, soaked through with his sweat. His whole body felt slippery with moisture. With a force of effort that made his head swim, he managed to sit up and peel his leggings off, flicking them into a corner of the wickiup. He lay back naked on the earth and closed his eyes once more.
He became aware of someone next to him. He opened his eyes and saw his brother, Joe, sitting next to him by the hot stones. Joe had a look of serenity on his face, a smile that shimmered as he stared into the fire pit.
"Joe…?"
Adam stretched out his hand to touch him but he couldn't seem to reach.
"Joe."
Adam strained again to touch his younger brother. He just needed to feel Joe's warmth. But no matter how close Joe seemed to be, he was always just out of range.
Adam's head was heavy with heat and dizziness. He let his hand drop.
"I miss you, Joe…"
Joe shifted position. He looked away from Adam, grinning widely as if responding to a voice that Adam couldn't hear. Adam heaved himself up onto his elbows and looked in the direction that Joe was facing but there was no one there. He lay back and closed his eyes briefly. And when he opened them again, Joe was gone.
"I miss you, Joe," Adam whispered.
Was it minutes that passed, or hours, or days? Adam had no conception of time. The heat from the hot stones never abated, never died down. The steam would fade and suddenly be everywhere again, choking him, leaving him gasping for air. Adam's head was so heavy that the slightest movement caused waves of dizziness to smother his brain. He lay not moving, not thinking, only aware of the constant weight in his head.
A hand touched his chest. He opened his eyes and Wanekia was next to him stroking the tiny curls on his torso. Her naked skin shone in the half-light that filtered through the cracks in the sides of the wickiup. He forgot the pressure in his head and pulled her down to his side. They made love in the steamy atmosphere of the hut and when they were both exhausted from their exertions Adam lay back and waited to feel Wanekia's head rest on his chest. When she did not come to him, he opened his eyes and he was alone again.
Sleep overtook him again. He did not dream but lay flat on his back with the sweat glistening on his skin, unaware of time and place. But then he was jerked back into consciousness by masked men crowding around him. There were too many of them for such a small space, he had nowhere to hide, to escape to. He looked around him frantically. They were everywhere, in front, behind, above him. And he was scared. He couldn't remember feeling so terrified in all his life. And the space seemed bigger all of a sudden, and there was a man on a horse. The man dismounted and moved towards Adam with such speed that he had no time to run. Adam tried to scramble up and get away, but the man was on top of him and stabbing, stabbing, stabbing. Adam cried out in pain and shock and fell to the ground, curling up, feeling the hot wetness of the blood seeping through his hands where he grasped them tightly over his stomach, trying to keep his body intact, afraid it would split apart at any second.
But the pain and the noise subsided and when Adam raised his head, oh so slowly, and looked around him, the men had gone but there was a new noise approaching. And the ground seemed to be vibrating and suddenly he was surrounded by large beasts, stampeding past him, but never touching him. He felt no fear, and uncurled himself on to his back to watch the glorious stampede of bison as these majestic animals ran past him and over him but never harming him. One huge beast, larger than the rest, lumbered towards him through the milling herd. It spoke to Adam. Adam understood the words but couldn't recall them even a second after they were said. He felt safe and comforted. The beast kneeled on its front legs and then dropped its rear to the ground. Adam lay back against the creature's side, feeling the heat and the heartbeat of the great beast. Secure in its warmth, Adam fell asleep.
And Adam dreamt of the Ute, he saw them as they used to be, wandering the Great Plains in large numbers, making war against the Cheyenne, Shoshone and Sioux. He saw the great buffalo hunts. He was witness to the first hesitant meetings between the Ute and the Spaniards who introduced the horse into their culture. He saw the coming of the white man, the expansion westwards and saw how they lost their ancestral gathering grounds. Adam stirred in his sleep, conscious of anger and rage towards the people who took so much and gave nothing back in return. But he quietened as the bison spoke reassuring words to him and he fell into a dreamless sleep.
When Adam awoke the air was clearer; the rocks merely steamed now without the billowing clouds of vapour of before. And although the air was still hot and clammy, Adam's head felt clearer. He levered himself up on to his hands and knees and crawled to the opening. He fell outside into bright sunlight and lay gasping for clean fresh air on the ground. The cooler air felt delicious on his naked body. Cameahwait was there, kneeling at Adam's side.
"What is your name?" he asked Adam, using the English words.
Adam looked up at him from where he lay, drawing in the soft, silky air with large breaths. He felt no embarrassment at his nakedness.
His reply was in Ute. "My name…" he breathed, "…is Liwanu."
Adam Cartwright had entered the sweat lodge but it was Liwanu who crawled out.