Sacajawea Read Free Page B

them, the women ate some chokecherries given them by Coyote the Trickster. When the fruit made their mouth draw up, they induced their family to try it. The more they ate, the darker their flesh became, until it was a nice rich brown.” 4
    Today a friend, Willow Bud, about twelve summers like Rain Girl, came to listen to Old Grandmother’s stories as she worked on a pair of moccasins for her father.
    “Teach me to sew on quills, Old Grandmother. I wish to surprise my father so he will have moccasins to wear when we move to winter camp. See the long tops I made for them and the tiny fringe drag at the heels?” Willow Bud held the high-top moccasins up proudly.
    Old Grandmother sat on her bed of buffalo hides and crooned to herself as she picked out red-and yellow-dyed porcupine quills from a small leather pouch. Her hands shook as she arranged them in a design on the earth.
    “Turkey tracks,” squealed Willow Bud with delight as she recognized the design.
    “Old Grandmother, tell us a story while we sew,” begged Grass Child.
    “Oh,
ai,”
cried Rain Girl.
    Old Grandmother’s hands shook in her lap like bone rattles. She sat very still, staring at her hands. Her eyes took on a fresh luster, and she began softly, “I have told you of the Great Mystery of birth, and now I tell you another mystery is death. It comes to all those that live.” She stopped, closed her eyes, and scratched at a fly on the back of her neck with a long, yellowed fingernail. “It is soon time for me to go to the Great Spirit. The journey is not long,” she announced in a whisper, her eyes remaining closed as if to see the trail to the place where there was no hunger, no pain, no sadness, only sunshine, clear streams with many fish, and grassy meadows with much game.
    “No, no!” exclaimed all three girls.
    “We need you,” said Willow Bud.
    “Our mother needs you,” said Rain Girl.
    “I can never learn all the things I must know to be a woman without you,” said Grass Child, tears welling.
    “You are foolish. You think of yourselves,” scolded Old Grandmother. Her voice was raspy and stayed in her throat. “I am lonely for the people I used to know. Those who have already taken the long journey to the Land of Everfeasting. I have the stiffness in my joints and can hardly walk. My hands spill the soup before it reaches my mouth.”
    “But we love you,” sobbed Grass Child.
    “Ai,
I love you, too, but this is my time now. Do not grieve. Look ahead.”
    “What is there ahead?” said Rain Girl, her head bowed as a tear slid from her cheek to the soft tanned skin on her lap.
    Old Grandmother bent unsteadily and clasped her thin fingers around Rain Girl’s hand. “I have had a feeling. A strange omen has been pushing at my thoughts. My granddaughter, you will never feel the joy of being an old grandmother.
Aiieee!
That is sadness.”
    Rain Girl looked into the pinched face of Old Grandmother. She smiled and remembered that Old Grandmother had always told of omens. She could even smell the weather.
    “Do not be sad about that, Old Grandmother. It isperhaps because my children will not marry. I am betrothed to Heavy Runner, son of Red Buck, remember?”
    Old Grandmother shrugged and pulled a robe over her thin knees. “I do not know more.”
    Grass Child moved closer to Old Grandmother, forgetting about her sewing. “What about Willow Bud? Have you had a feeling about her?”
    “Ai,”
smiled Old Grandmother. “She will make a good wife and mother, and her sewing will improve each season.” She shuddered and opened her mouth. Her bottom teeth were gone, so that nothing held back the saliva. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaking hand. “You will go on a long journey into an unknown land. Soon.”
    Willow Bud laughed. “I know; we are going to winter camp. That’s a long journey and is coming soon.”
    “What do you know of me?” asked Grass Child, eager to have something strange and mysterious revealed to her,