When Naomi looked in the mirror, the woman who stared back at her was someone she’d never seen before, a strong Lakota woman with braids hanging over her shoulders and no makeup on her face.
It had been an amazing weekend. She’d met so many wonderful people, each one of them related to her by blood. Everyone had brought gifts for her, some simple like braids of sweetgrass, others sacred, like eagle feathers. Everyone wanted to hear her story, to know more about her, to talk with her.
It was like standing in the center of a benevolent tornado.
They walked outside together for the naming ceremony, relatives sitting in the shade or standing in groups.
Grandpa Belcourt stood next to the big tree, wearing his best blue jeans and a ribbon shirt, an eagle feather in his hair. Chaska was there, too, feather in his hair. His gaze was warm when he saw her, appreciation in his dark eyes. Winona stood beside him, looking like she wanted to run over and hug Naomi.
Naomi went to stand beside Grandpa Belcourt, who waited for quiet and then began to speak, reminding everyone that Naomi hadn’t had a naming ceremony when she was little. He told them how important a Lakota name was, its spiritual power conferring protection on Lakota children.
After that, he blessed her with his ancient eagle father, painted her face withwase, singing ancient and sacred songs, the host drum beating out the rhythm.
Then it was time for him to speak her name, the name that the Spirit world would know her by, her true Lakota name. She knew what her name would be, of course. Everyone already called her Tanagila—Hummingbird.
Grandpa said it in Lakota first, and then in English, speaking clearly so that everyone could hear. “She Catches the Light.”
Stunned, she stood there, accepting the congratulations of her family, her mind flashing to that July day when she and Grandpa had sat on the front porch.
It’s all about the settings on the camera. They need to be fast enough to catch the light for just that split second when the wings are open.
And for the first time in her life, Naomi knew exactly who she was.
Chaska couldn’t believehe was doing this. “The pants are too short.”
Not surprising, given that they belonged to Old Man, part of an old powwow costume he still had on hand.
“You won’t be able to tell when you have the moccasins on.” Winona fussed with his braids, then stepped back, biting back a smile. “I think you look great. A little Hollywood maybe, but, good.”
His cousin, Frankie, watched from the sofa, chuckling. He’d let them borrow his house as their staging area and had even helped Chaska pick out the horses he needed for Naomi’s bride price. “You going to wear a shirt or just go bare-chested? Women like that bare-chested stuff, especially when the chest looks like yours.”
“Thanks, Frank. I feel completely un-self-conscious now.” Chaska couldn’t wear the shirt that went with the pants because it was too narrow in the shoulders for him.
Frankie shook his head. “I don’t know about this. Her father is either going to be impressed—or he’s going to call the police on you, man.”
Winona put the leather cord for the pendant Naomi had given him over his neck and fussed with it, too. “Doug is going to love this—especially the horses.”
“Enough.” Chaska batted Winona’s hand away. “Let’s get back before all the food is gone.”
A thanksgiving feast always followed a naming ceremony, and Chaska was hungry. Or maybe he was nauseated from nerves.
They walked out to Frankie’s driveway, where the horses waited in the bed of Chaska’s pickup. The plan was that Frankie would follow him, bringing a loading ramp to make it easier for Chaska to get the horses down. Then he would ride them into the feast and offer them to Doug.
Naomi wanted a traditional Lakota betrothal? Well, she was going to get it.
“Hoka hey!” shouted Frankie, climbing into his truck. “Let’s roll.”
They drove the short distance back to the Otter Tail residence, trucks parked alongside the road for a half mile in either direction and found a parking spot. Frankie brought the loading ramp, attached it to the back of Chaska’s truck, then stepped aside.
Chaska climbed into the bed of the truck, mounted the horses, and started their engine, then drove them down the ramp and up the street.
People smiled as he passed, some laughing. He didn’t care. What he was doing would be the stuff of legend by tomorrow—if the bride agreed to have him and Doug didn’t have him arrested.
He drove the horses into Doug’s backyard, stopped the engine, and dismounted, standing there, waiting for Doug to see him.
Old Man saw him first. He gave him an approving nod, a big grin on his face.
Then Naomi noticed him. “Chaska? What in the—”