Red Dove, Run Through the Fire by Sonia Antaki

Author:Sonia Antaki [Antaki, Sonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atmosphere Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

L Chankpe Opi K

The morning air was heavy with damp, and warm for winter. Ice was melting in the slushy puddles that lay by the side of the road. At another time, on another day, Red Dove would have slowed the ride, even stopped to enjoy the bright new day. But not today.

He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying pounded in her brain, in time with the beating of her heart and her pony’s hooves. I have to get there soon!

She’d been summoned and she had to go, so she urged the pony along the rutted trail in the direction of the fort.

Fingers of light stretched across the moistening landscape as the sun rose high, warming the last of the frozen ground, turning it to mush.

And suddenly, the voices in her head changed.

Now they were singing a different refrain, accompanied by the music of eagle bone whistles and swarming bees.

She pulled the pony to a halt.

“Why ya stoppin’?”

“Over there. Chankpe Opi—”

“Chankpe what?”

“Wounded Knee.”

“Oh. You don’t wanna remember that, do you?” said Rick. “Better just keep going. We’re in a hurry, ain’t we? To see the Cap’n?”

“We are, but the ridge, over there.”

They drew closer, ice crunching beneath the pony’s hooves.

The noise inside Red Dove’s head grew louder. She smelled smoke, heard cries and watched. She thought of the dreamcatcher old Habitrot had made to keep bad thoughts away—but nothing was going to stop the memories here.

Rick pointed to the yards-long depression in the earth, frosted with a coat of white. “What do you s’pose that is?”

“It’s where men, women and children are buried,” she said, gazing at the snow-covered valley where so many had fallen. “My people.”

“All of them?” Rick took off his hat. “In one grave?”

“Probably it was the soldiers who buried them there. Our people wouldn’t have done it like that. They would have honored them, given each a special place.”

Rick turned to face her. “But this place is special, ain’t it?”

“Han, yes. To them. And now to us.”

“So they—and what happened here—won’t ever be forgotten, will it, Red Dove?” Rick bowed his head.

“Not if I can help it.”

Morning became day and day turned into dusk as they rode. Rick pointed at something in the distance with his gloved hand. “Up ahead. Hard to make out in this light, but I think it’s there.”

Red Dove urged the pony on until the familiar stockade loomed before them, black against the graying sky. It was the fort, the place she had once visited to trade beadwork for food, where she had first met Rick, encountered her father—and tasted the hatred of the whites.

“State your business,” called the guard from the tower, training his rifle on them both. Then he recognized Rick. “That you, son? Sure am glad to see you.”

Timbers creaked and the heavy gate groaned open. “He’s over there,” said the soldier, pointing to the bunkhouse door.

They rode through the slushy courtyard, up to the plank sidewalk that surrounded the square, and dismounted. A grizzled old soldier in rumpled pants,

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