CHAPTER 26 – POWWOW AND RODEO

It was an excited group that made their way to the powwow the next day. Cloud Dancing was especially looking forward to the dance competitions and the annual rodeo. Sully laughingly suggested that Michaela bring along her doctor's bag for the ones who ended up on the wrong side of the horse – and he knew only too well how that felt.

As they passed the temporary corral with its surrounding metal bleachers, Brian innocently asked, "Cloud Dancing, are you gonna be in the rodeo today, too?"

The Indian laughed out loud and reached to ruffle Brian's blond hair, glinting in the morning sunlight, blue eyes gazing up at his tall, athletic Cheyenne father.

"No, Bright Moon, my rodeo days have been over for a while now. I am afraid that is for the young bucks...not old ones like me."

"You're not old Cloud Dancing! You're not no older than Daddy, and he's not old!"

Sully laughed in pleasure and reached down to scoop Brian up onto his shoulders. "Remind me to give you an extra bowl of ice cream for that remark, Brian," he joked, flashing a grin and wink at his wife as everyone chuckled.

Michaela grinned back, thinking that the stallion she had been with the night before was anything but old. On the contrary, he was prime stock... "Nice confirmation, excellent stamina, gentle nature, sensible disposition," she thought, ticking off equine descriptions that fit him to a tee. Suddenly an ad she had read the day before of a stallion for sale popped in her head and she silently likened it to her wonderful husband/lover. "Has a presence that will take your breath away. He's charismatic and light on his feet. He's incredibly beautiful with thick wavy hair, a kind eye and gorgeous head. He's very athletic with his movement, powerful yet elegant - long legs, eager to please, loves to perform..."

As the lovers walked along holding hands, Brian still perched on Sully's shoulders, visions of their lovemaking from the night before swam before her mind's eye – the sensual caresses, the deep kisses, the masterful way he sensually tortured her, drawing out their foreplay until she was mindless with desire for him, begging him to make love to her. She saw herself caressing her 'stallion's' body, aggressively kneading and stroking him until he was breathless and groaning, until they could wait no longer and came together with crashing ferocity, devouring each other's mouths in a wild firestorm of lovemaking...

"Michaela?" Sully prompted, smiling when he saw her eyes focus on him again. She blushed at the direction her thoughts had taken.

"What'cha thinkin' about so hard?" he murmured close to her, somehow having an idea from the dreamy sparkle in her eyes.

She drew in a breath and glanced at him with an innocent smile. "Oh nothing...just thinking about...stallions," she quipped, biting her lip as she looked away.

Sully chuckled softly and made a mental note to tickle the real answer out of her later.

When they reached the powwow grounds, Michaela couldn't believe how many people were there. It seemed like the entire Northern Cheyenne Nation of almost 10,000 had come! Her mouth opened in sheer awe of the crowd. Though she knew the population amount on paper and had heard the number spoken, it hadn't sunk in until she was there in the middle of it all. Gazing around, it occurred to her that the original Cloud Dancing would have been comforted after Washita if he could have looked into the future and seen what she was seeing now.

All around them people milled about, dressed in everything from normal clothing to the traditional Indian garb their friends and hosts had adopted for the day. There were men in cowboy apparel with boots and western hats, long braid hanging down in back. Some wore full Indian regalia with outlandish headdresses in bright yellows, reds and blues, dancing and stomping to the drumbeats and chanting of the Lame Deer Singers. (A/N: Reader, go to Youtube and search for watch?v=qGvLTox4TAE and let it play while you read, you'll see what I mean, lol) Michaela discretely covered her ears, the singing seeming more like piercing screams to her as the men and boys in the 'band' shrieked, "AAA AHHH AAA AHHHH AAA AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHH." Michaela glanced down and saw Brian cover both his ears with his palms as they passed close by the band.

As the wailing and chanting grew louder and louder, she could vividly imagine what it must have been like in the time of their ancestors to be in the camp as the Indians prepared for war. She could literally feel the drum beats and loud screams reverberate within her body. It would have been incredibly, heart-stoppingly intimidating to the whites. That made her think for a moment that the original Sully lived with the Indians so long, he became completely accustomed to their ways, entirely 'one of them'. No doubt he would have felt right 'at home' in the midst of what seemed to her noise and chaos.

A journal entry came to mind that she and Sully had read months before, now come to life before her eyes:

May 1868

I saw another side to Sully last night...and it frightened me a little. Over the past few months he and I have become close, even best friends, and I feel like I can confide in him things that I have never shared with another living soul. I felt like I had begun to know him, inside, to know his thoughts and emotions and understand the way he thinks. I feel like he knows me intimately, though we have only shared one chaste kiss...but last night...I saw a wildness in him that seemed to remove him from me and create a chasm that I may not be able to cross.

I stayed last night at the reservation tending to an injured child. While in the teepee caring for the young girl, Cries No More, I heard the camp suddenly erupt in cheering and noise - the sounds of celebration. When I made my way to the door flap and looked out, the entire camp seemed jubilantly alive. I learned later that a hunting party had returned with enough meat to feed the entire tribe! Everywhere, men, women and children were dancing and stomping to the beat of drums and it seemed to grow louder with each minute. I could feel the drumbeats to the core of my body and I began to be frightened and felt very much like an outsider...an intruder. This has never happened in all of the times I have visited the reservation.

Then I looked around for Sully, my rock and protector, and suddenly I saw him – in the midst of them. He was shouting and chanting and stomping right along with the rest. In the light of the cooking fires, with his long hair and buckskins, he had never resembled the Indians he calls family more than at that moment. It made me realize there are many things about this man I do not yet know. It made me wonder if our lives are so vastly different that there would never be enough common ground on which to stand together...but such thinking is for naught anyway as we are merely good friends...

Michaela was startled from her reverie as an announcer called over a loudspeaker that the dance competitions were about to begin. He detailed the age groups and dances and a group of girls and young women ran to the center of the clearing and began twirling and dancing to the driving beat of the drum in beautifully designed fringed dresses and leggings of every color, with long fringed shawls.

Snowbird drew near and spoke over the noise, "That is the Women's Fancy Shawl competition. They work on their shawls and outfits all year to compete."

"Did you dance in the one hanging on the wall in your living room?" Michaela asked, remembering the many trophies and the beautiful shawl.

"Yes. That one was my mother's, handed down to me. I won twice with that shawl," she added with a small touch of pride as she watched the young women twirling to the beat of the drum, their arms spreading their shawls like the wings of an eagle, leaning and dipping as if in flight as they spun, each step so quick and light that the young women looked as though they were literally dancing on air.

"Why aren't you competing this year?" Michaela asked as she grinned at her friend, admiring her lovely buckskin dress, her hair styled in the traditional braid with beaded accents.

"Heh! I have had enough of that – it is much harder than it looks, and very tiring. To do it right, you must train like an athlete before the competition or your leg muscles give out. You see how they dance mostly on the balls of their feet?" Michaela nodded. "The judges watch closely for correct technique in the dance, the shawl is just for a pretty effect." (Reader on Youtube, search for watch?v=PMUdbAmxSLQ watch some of this, the dresses and shawls are breathtaking! (The shawls start at 1:46)

Michaela couldn't take her eyes from the beautiful designs on the shawls – each one so vastly different from the next. The colors were spectacular, shimmering whites, greens, blues, or yellows, with long elegant fringe on the edges. Some of the designs reminded Michaela of butterflies, some of traditional 'Indian' patterns, and each woman wore feather headdresses and ankle moccasins with buckskin leggings decorated in intricate details.

"Jingle Dress and Fancy Feather are next," Snowbird informed her as the first dance came to an end and the crowd cheered for their favorites. Another group of young women ran out on the grounds and began to dance and spin in calf length dresses with eagle plumes in their hair, their legs performing a scissor-like action with one hand on a hip and one arm in the air holding a feather fan. Their multi-colored fabric dresses were decorated with tin jingles, "made from the lids of chewing tobacco cans," Snowbird explained. Michaela estimated there must be hundreds of 'jingles' on each dress and the pleasant sound they produced when they chimed together reminded her of rain on a tin roof.

When those competitions were over, the announcer spoke over the loud speaker and a group of young boys in full regalia ran out in the middle and began dancing and stepping and bending low to the beat of the drums. Each one had a number pinned to a long loincloth hanging in front. On their backs were huge, round, beautifully designed feathered 'bustles'; tall headdresses adorned their heads, their moccasins covered in fringe. Each carried in one hand a 'dance staff' with feathers attached and a feathered talisman in the other. Some had beaded armbands and cuffs with fringe; some had fringes at the knee with bells.

Cloud Dancing leaned toward Michaela, smiling proudly and almost shouting to be heard, "That is the junior boys' dancing the Traditional Dance." Michaela nodded in response, unable to take her eyes from the action. A little boy danced by no older than Brian, his steps in perfect time with the drums.

Sully gazed at his wife, pleased at her response to the powwow dancers he was so familiar with, having seen it nearly every year of his life. He chuckled as he watched her expression, like a child in awe, and he stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"Aren't they wonderful?"

He nodded with a dimpled grin. "Yeah, they sure are," he agreed, although his eyes were on her more than the dancers.

The day went on with different classes of dancers competing in the Grass Dance, Fancy Feather, and Traditional categories. Young boys and girls, teens, ladies, men, and seniors all competed in their classes for prizes, which consisted of as much as $3,000 down to $50 and a jacket.

Vendors were everywhere hawking their wares of native foods, arts and crafts. The family sampled different native dishes, yet all agreed none were better than Snowbird's, which she humbly denied, albeit with eyes twinkling in pleasure at their compliments. The parents found it very difficult to keep an eye on their family and keep everyone together as the press of people sometimes became almost overwhelming.

"I have not seen this good of a turn out for a powwow in many years," Cloud Dancing commented at one point. "President Spang will be very pleased." Michaela, looking around at the mass of people, more clearly understood why Cloud Dancing and Snowbird had never seen each other at the powwows before she ran for Miss Northern Cheyenne. How could you even find a person you were looking for in such a crowd?

Finally, toward afternoon, the dance competitions were over and the time came for the rodeo.

Making their way over to the rodeo grounds, the family sat down together in the first set of bleachers near the chute, about halfway up so they had a good view of the action.

A young girl came by handing out programs. Matthew took one and thanked her. Opening it and beginning to read, he chuckled.

"What's funny, Matthew?" Sully asked casually, glancing over at his son as he turned to the side, allowing rodeo watchers to get by and take seats on the other end of their row.

Not wanting to offend any Cheyenne within hearing range, Matthew leaned toward his father, reading softly, "The emcee is JD Old Mouse, Head Judge is Shawn Old Mouse...Head Wrangler is Derek Knows His Gun...Arena Director Rock Red Cherries. Come on! What kind of 'strong, proud Cheyenne names' are those?" he asked with a crooked half grin, shaking his head in wonder.

"I've heard worse over the years," Sully murmured with a grin. "But behind each one is a story that makes sense. I'd be interested to find those out, though."

The arena stands filled up quickly, people all over abuzz with excitement, Cheyenne and English both being spoken, hollered and laughed as the fans awaited the start. Sully leaned toward his wife, pointing to a man sitting on the front row of the next section, frowning as if angry, arms crossed over his chest.

"See him? That's Allen Clawfoot's dad I told you about."

"My...he looks as if he's angry..."

"He's always looked that way, every time I've ever seen him. I've never seen him smile." She nodded and gazed at the man in thought for a few minutes.

Then she looked over at her husband as he scanned the crowd for people he knew.

"Sully?"

He turned his head toward her, the afternoon sun beaming just right into his eyes, turning them the breathtaking vibrant blue that always made her weak in the knees. For a moment she was speechless as she felt herself melting into their beauty.

"Hmm?" he prompted, clueless to the amount of animal magnetism he was projecting at that moment. He truly does not know how incredibly gorgeous he is...how has he remained so unaffected...so...normal...

"Michaela?" he prompted again, wondering where his normally sharp-minded wife's thoughts were this afternoon.

Before she realized it, she voiced her thoughts, "How is it that you've been coming here all your life and...no Cheyenne girl grabbed you up for her own?"

He grinned and chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he looked around at the crowd at quite a few familiar faces.

"Who says some didn't try?" he quipped, glancing at her with a wink. She raised an eyebrow at him, wanting more.

He looked around and spotted a woman with four children across the aisle. Leaning closer, he murmured, "See her there, with the four kids? Elena Freshdeer. She was the first girl I ever took out on a date. We were fifteen and we went to a movie over in Billings. My dad drove us in his car. I went by to see her the next day and her dad told me to get lost," he added with a chuckle.

Glancing around, he spotted a heavyset woman with many children making her way up the bleachers across arena. "See her, goin' up the steps? Freda Littlewolf. She was the first girl I ever kissed. I was twelve and she was thirteen, remember I told you? She was so pretty...long black hair, warm brown eyes. She let me kiss her twice, but the second time her older brother came around the corner and saw us, so to keep from bein' squealed on, she slapped my face and ran," he laughed at the memory. By now Michaela was giggling along with him, imagining him as an awkward adolescent and young teen, trying to learn the ropes.

"There were some that I was kinda sweet on over the years...and some that were friends," he continued, "but each one let me know that friendship was all they wanted from me. When it came to bein' serious or gettin' married, they knew they had to marry one of their own kind."

"You mean, Cheyenne girls never fall in love and marry white men?" Michaela asked amazed.

"Oh sure, but that's rare. Those that do usually end up livin' off of the reservation...and away from their families. The fact that most marry Cheyenne is why there's still a Cheyenne nation today – otherwise it would have been diluted and lost long ago," he added matter-of-factly.

Before she could ask any more questions, a man stepped to the middle of the arena with a microphone and welcomed everyone to the Chief's Powwow Rodeo. Giving some pertinent information to the spectators, he then moved right into announcing the first contestant, a young man named Clifford Bearcomesout.

"Hey, that's my friend Charlie's boy," Sully commented, leaning back to Cloud Dancing and Snowbird seated directly behind.

"I didn't know Charlie's son was that old already."

The Indian nodded in answer, "He is seventeen, I believe. This is his first rodeo," he added, his eyes trained on the chute. Within seconds it was thrown wide and horse and rider burst from within. Three seconds later, the rider was on the ground, 'clowns' moving in to distract the horse while several wranglers rushed out to help the young man up and get him out of harm's way.

"He will do better next time. The first time out is always difficult," Cloud Dancing declared confidently.

The next rider was announced, a young man in his twenties by the name of Alec Sandcrane, whom Sully did not know. He rode his horse the full eight seconds until the buzzer sounded loudly, quickly dismounting when a wrangler rode up and grabbed the horse's bridle.

As rider after rider competed, some lasting less than one second, some the full eight, and anywhere in between, the family clapped, cheered, and awwwed for each one. Michaela noticed each were young men in their teens and early twenties.

Then the announcer said, "Our next contestant is a favorite from the past, back again to try his hand, the first time in seven years. Let's give it up for Allen Clawfoot, Jr.!"

Michaela turned wordlessly to Sully; his eyes large with surprise. Cloud Dancing leaned down to him immediately, murmuring, "He should not be competing, he is no where near in good enough physical shape to do this!"

Sully nodded in total agreement, knowing the man had been a virtual drunken bum for years. After a few moments, the chute gate was thrown open and horse and rider burst out, the horse unusually wild. The two couples stood simultaneously as Sully murmured, "He won't make..." Just then, the horse bucked wildly backward and then forward, totally taking the man by surprise and he went sailing over the horses' head, landing nearly straight down with a loud crack.

Women screamed and people jumped to their feet as everyone realized what must have happened.

Without thinking twice, the physician inside her shooting to the service, Michaela jumped from their row in the stands and ran down the stairs toward the arena, Sully and Cloud Dancing on her heels.

"Michaela stop! What do you think you're doin'?" Sully yelled, but she kept going. Reaching the rails of the arena, she shinnied through and ran the few yards to the stricken man. Several wranglers were just in the act of bending to grab his arms and drag him out of harm's way as the horse he had been on bucked wildly only feet away.

"STOP! DON'T MOVE HIM!" Michaela yelled, startling the men. They turned her way, astonished to see a beautiful white woman with long flowing copper hair running toward them.

"Get outta here, lady, before you get trampled!" one of the men yelled as pandemonium erupted. Voices yelling in Cheyenne and English abounded as Sully reached his wife's side, grasping her arm and trying to pull her back.

"Sully let me go, I can help him!" Michaela yelled, yanking her arm from his grasp. Looking upward, she gave a shriek as the horse stopped near them and raised its hooves as if to attack the man on the ground and everyone around him. Sully, his heart in his throat, quickly grabbed Michaela around her waist from behind and swung her out of the way a split second before disaster.

Cloud Dancing yelled a command to the horse in Cheyenne and immediately grasped its bridle. Then moving quickly, he unbuckled the saddle and let it drop, serving to begin to calm the horse. Motioning for the head wrangler to take over, the Indian turned back to his friends.

The stricken man's father reached his son just as Michaela disengaged herself from Sully's grip and knelt next to the man, reaching out to take his pulse.

The old man grabbed at her arm, cursing at her and yelling, "Get away from my son, véhoáe bi***!"

Sully reacted immediately to someone manhandling his wife, gripping the man's arm and twisting him away from her.

"She's a DOCTOR!" he yelled at the man.

"No white slut is gonna touch my son!" the old man yelled in Cheyenne.

Cloud Dancing put his body between the old man and his friends, rebuking him briskly in Cheyenne as Michaela turned back to the man on the ground. His eye without the patch fluttered open, but before he could try to move, Michaela leaned over him, murmuring, "Please don't try to move. You've been severely injured. We need to get you to a hospital."

The man's good eye focused on her and he realized it was the wife of the white man, Sully that he had tried to attack. He immediately deduced that she was looking for revenge. "Get away from me," he whispered.

"Get outta the way, lady! We've gotta get him off the field for the next rider," one of the wranglers aggravatingly fumed.

Placing her hands on both sides of the stricken man, she looked up at the men surrounding her – her husband, Cloud Dancing, the man's father, and several others. Determination infused her being and she demanded in her most authoritative 'Dr. Quinn' voice, "YOU WILL NOT MOVE HIM! He must not be moved until he is strapped to a backboard and loaded into an ambulance." As they stared at her in disbelief of her audacity, she added, "Someone call an ambulance. NOW!"

Unaccustomed to a woman giving orders in such clear, confident, knowledgeable tones, the men somehow knew they needed to obey her instructions. One man turned and ran off to a phone to call.

Sully crouched down next to his wife as she performed a cursory examination of 'her' patient. "Michaela?"

She looked into his eyes, silently pleading for his support. "Sully...we must keep him immobile...or he could be paralyzed. He has quite possibly broken his neck. Something definitely snapped when he hit. I can't be sure which vertebrae without turning him over, but I don't want to move him."

As her husband silently watched her, wondering vaguely how she could care so much about a man who had attacked her, she went on, "Sully...I've seen this before. I did my residency at Boston Memorial and put in many hours in the ER. Three times I've treated patients who had falls similar to his...two ended up totally paralyzed and one fully recovered with surgery. He was the only one who had been kept calm and immobilized until help came," she added pointedly.

Sully nodded, fully confident in his wife's medical knowledge. Making his decision, he stood and placed himself between her and the onlookers as she continued to monitor the man's condition.

"This is Dr. Michaela Quinn-Sully and she knows what she is talking about. Ya'll need ta move back and give her some room to work."

As the man's father began to argue again, Cloud Dancing literally pulled him away.

Sully, seeing that the men were going to allow Michaela to continue, turned again and crouched next to her as the announcer explained to the crowd what was happening. Though the crowd had quieted, they now began to murmur and talk among themselves, the general point of discussion being a white woman taking charge on the field.

Michaela leaned over the stricken man, peering into his good eye sympathetically.

"Are you in pain?" she asked softly, but professionally.

He started to move his head but she raised her hands to either side of his face and stopped him. "Please, you must try not to move until the extent of your injuries can be determined. Do you understand? Any movement could cause more damage...even paralysis."

"I understand," he whispered.

Glancing at her husband, she instructed, "Sully, I need you to kneel at his head with your knees on either side. Hold his head just firm enough to prevent movement," she added as he quickly obeyed.

"Allen," Michaela spoke quietly, "do you feel pain anywhere?"

The man closed his eye as if to concentrate and then slowly opened it again. Looking straight into hers, he murmured, "Yeah... head hurts... neck... shoulders."

Michaela nodded, carefully not allowing alarm or emotion in her face. "Are you breathing alright?"

"Yeah."

She gently reached a hand under his neck and felt what she had expected, swelling already beginning.

"Alright, just try to lie quietly until the ambulance gets here," she instructed softly, glancing at her husband and seeing in his eyes his empathy for his one time enemy. Just then, they all heard the siren of the ambulance as it made its way through the crowd.

Several minutes later, two EMTs sprinted to the injured man, carrying the backboard between them, others carrying their equipment.

Kneeling down at his sides, they quickly assessed the situation.

"I'm Dr. Michaela Quinn-Sully," Michaela introduced herself to them quickly. "This man has a possible cervical fracture. He needs to be placed on a backboard and taken to the health facility for x-rays."

The men nodded and immediately set about expertly moving the Indian onto the board and taping his head down firmly.

Once they had him packaged and loaded onto the ambulance, the driver asked if she wished to go along. Exchanging glances with her husband and seeing him nod, she turned and climbed up into the back of the vehicle. The man's father took the passenger seat up front.

"I'll see you there," Sully commented and Michaela smiled gratefully in response as the driver closed the back doors.

While in route, Michaela and the second paramedic monitored the stricken man's condition, thankful he didn't appear to be worsening.

Having called ahead, they were met at the doors of the Lame Deer Health Facility by the physician on call, which was one of the pediatricians, and several nurses. Michaela, sensing her colleague's unfamiliarity with this type of injury, naturally took charge, once establishing her identity and extent of her medical knowledge. Although the father quietly argued against the woman doctor, he nonetheless realized the seriousness of the situation and uncharacteristically decided to remain to the side, watching. Suggesting an immediate x-ray, the physician, Dr. Ramirez, concurred and arrangements were made.

Sully and Cloud Dancing arrived, Snowbird having taken the rest of the family on home. The men sat down with Allen, Sr., in the waiting room.

As the x-rays were put up on screen, Michaela and Dr. Ramirez perused them thoroughly, Michaela pointing out areas of injury and probable treatment, having seen very similar x-rays many times in the past. Dr. Ramirez, very glad to have her with him to consult, agreed that the best thing to do was get him back in the ambulance for the two and a half hour trip to Holy Rosary Hospital for immediate surgery. The doctor left to make the necessary phone calls as Michaela walked back to the waiting room to tell the worried father.

As he was being loaded into the ambulance for the second time, the Indian called to Michaela and she came to his side.

"Wife of Sully," he began haltingly, "...I was wrong to do what I did...to you. I'm just sayin'...I'm sorry."

Michaela smiled at him sympathetically and murmured, "Thank you for saying that...I accept your apology. They'll take good care of you at the hospital...I'm sure you will make a full recovery."

The man managed a small smile as the doors were closed and the ambulance began its journey.

Finally off 'duty', Michaela turned to her husband and gratefully went into his arms, glad to finally be able to relax.

It had been a very long day.