Greatest Change

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: The Losing Side of History

"The whole course of human history may depend on a change of heart in one solitary and even humble individual - for it is in the solitary mind and soul of the individual that the battle between good and evil is waged and ultimately won or lost."

~ M. Scott Peck

Clara couldn't sleep much of the night with the anticipation in her stomach going faster than a telegram message. Every exciting thought about what she would see or do just made it worse, her mind was constantly all over the place and she couldn't settle on just one idea. She thought about bringing her notebook with her, perhaps to note down or even give a quick sketch of what she would see but the idea of losing it didn't suit her very well. When she woke up she could hear the patter of rain all over the dirt, a smile still on her face. For once she didn't really have to wake up with fear that her father could come barging in the middle of the night or anything. She wouldn't have to hear the screams of her mother most nights and cover her ears just to try and get sleep. Sure, Indians probably weren't the safest, but so far it seemed so.

Getting dressed, she stepped out, seeing people were already moving and going about their day. By now she memorized the tents for the more important people, in which they all seemed to be next to each other which helped a lot. At the edge of the corner was the Chief's in which he shared with Wichahpi and his wife. It was rather the most decorated of all of them, which seemed to be on purpose. Nobody ever walked in unless it were the Chief or his family. Next to that was Chayton's brother, whom Clara was avoiding as much as possible. The noises at night didn't help either from that tipi. She understood that there weren't any walls to block out those sounds but still...she thought maybe they would want a little bit of privacy during those intimate nights. Next to his was Chayton's of course, covered in weapons he probably had never used before in his life.

Wachiwi stated something about males being forbidden to enter a female's tent, and vice versa, unless they are married. Clara thought that was a pretty good rule, depending on the circumstances. That just meant even if Clara and Chayton wanted to discuss something in private it would either have to be while on scout duty or probably quietly at night. No matter, it's not like she had any right or reason to enter his at all unless it meant saving his life again. Clara didn't mind the privacy given to her. She was given quite a lot of time alone once they got back yesterday from that farce, but she was willing to help out with supper and met several Sioux women.

They were something special, almost like a different kind of breed. They were strong-minded, loyal, and intelligent. Most women where Clara was from were clueless when it came to a man's world. These women knew exactly what their husbands were doing and could easily take their place if anything were to happen. They did not talk of the latest gossip, they didn't laugh at another woman's appearance, and they certainly didn't gloat about anything. Of course Clara couldn't really understand them but from she managed to pull out seemed very generous and selfless. They were not concerned for war, in fact they were yearning for one. War was a part of their culture, a part of their dominance that they needed to keep their names intact. It was part of their daily lives. Clara never really saw it much as a violent act, but more of a self-defense, peaceful act. They had boundaries.

She had seen the man-made maps, the markings of their territory. To the east were the Great Plains, shared with three other tribes. One of them were Dakota, considered family to the Lakota's. The others seemed to try and avoid the Sioux in their small territories probably because of the size of their tribe. To the north were the great mountains that seemed to be the edge of Dakota Territory and leading to who knows where. To the west was a small canyon, where another tribe lived across on the planes: the Cheyenne. Clara had heard of them and actually thought that was the most prominent of Native Americans, but they had very miniscule land in South Dakota. Perhaps they were greater somewhere else or perhaps the more friendly to white men. From what she investigated, there was rarely any evidence of any communication from white people except for the town maybe thirty miles east. That was the last form of 'real' civilization Clara had seen before coming here.