* * *
Blue Cloud finally reaches his Chief’s tipi. Hearing the commotion outside, Chief Joseph and Mother Willow have come out to see what is happening.
“Hello, my Chief,” Blue Cloud says as Chief Joseph walks out of the tipi.
“My son, you have returned safely,” giving his father a hug, he looks toward his mother.
“Is it you, my son? You have grown so much,” Mother Willow says as she runs to give her son a long mother’s hug.
“Mother, I have missed your hugs,” Blue Cloud discloses. “I have missed giving them to you, my Son.”
Hearing the sound of horses walking up behind him, he turns around. “My Chief, Mother, here are the things that we brought back,” Blue Cloud said gesturing toward Black Bear and several of the other braves as they bring the pack horses over.
The Chief greets Black Bear, and the other braves back from their travels. “We are glad to see that you have arrived home safely, my Sons.”
Blue Cloud walks over to the pack horses. “My Chief, look. We brought back two guitars and two flutes.”
Chief Joseph looks at the flutes. “I remember listening to the beautiful music that you would play on your flute before you left.”
Looking at the guitar, he picks it up. Remembering his own earlier trade routes, Chief Joseph says, “My Son, I remember seeing this instrument, and hearing it being played on many of my trade routes. Have you learned to play it?” Chief Joseph asks.
“Yes. Both, Black Bear and I, have learned to play it. We played our guitars at our camp fires every night as we traveled home. Sometimes, we would play them as we were riding home, on the back of our horses.”
“…On the back of your horses?”
“Yes.” Would you like to hear us play them?” Blue Cloud asks.
“Yes.” Mother Willow and Chief Joseph both nod their heads.
Taking their guitars off of the pack horses, Blue Cloud and Black Bear sit down out in front of the Chief’s tipi and prepare to play them.
With the main body of the guitar resting on his lap, Blue Cloud holds the neck of his guitar with his left hand; the fingers of his right hand are poised to play.
“Are you ready, Black Bear?” he asks. Black Bear nods his head, and they both quickly begin to pluck the individual strings of their guitars. To make a louder reverberation, they begin to strum several strings at the same time, playing a beautiful new melody that his parents have never heard before.
Their music, carried by the wind, is heard throughout the village. Little by little, tribal members walk over to hear where the strange sound is coming from. As they approach their Chief’s tipi, they see Blue Cloud and Black Bear playing new musical instruments that they have never seen before. The other returning braves are sitting on the ground, just as they sat when Blue Cloud and Black Bear would play their music around the camp fire on their way home from their trade route.
The small tribal children excited with the new sound begin moving back and forth, and finally they begin to dance to the music. Some of the smaller ones are running around in circles. Others are running back and forth after each other. The tribal families are looking at Blue Cloud and Black Bear in amazement.
“What types of instrument are they are playing?” one woman asks.
“I don’t know. But I want to learn how to play it” a young brave states. “Look at all of the girls. They are taken with this new music!”
Snow Flower has come over to hear the music and sees Blue Cloud. “He has grown into a man. My heart is pounding so loud, I can barely hear the music he is playing,” she says, whispering to herself.
Mother Red Rose asks Snow Flower, after she sees her hiding behind a tree, “Why don’t you stand where he can see you?”
“Mother, I want to see if he will come to me. If he does, I will know that he still has feelings for me,” Snow Flower replies.
After Blue Cloud and Black Bear finish playing their guitars, the whole village hollers at the top of their lungs, showing their enjoyment of the performance. As they all continue this welcoming tribute to all of their sons that have arrived home, Chief Joseph announces, “There will be a great celebration tomorrow evening to celebrate the return of our sons.”
Flying Eagle and his braves, leave in a resentful rage. “Why is it that there is always a celebration for him?”
After the music is over, seeing that their sons have arrived home, the rest of the villagers slowly leave, gathering their own sons that have been gone for so long, and return to their own tipi. The evening is full of laughter coming from each family tipi.
After Chief Joseph and Mother Willow have time reacquainting themselves with their son, Blue Cloud says “Father, there is something else that I want to show you,” and lifts a canvas up. “I would be very proud, Father, if you would accept this drum for the village, at our celebration tomorrow night.”
Chief Joseph replies, “This drum is beautiful. Look at the craftsmanship! It’s amazing! Thank you so much, my Son. It is the best drum that I have ever seen.”
“All of your sons helped pick it out. They are so pleased to have you as their Chief.”
“I am proud of all of my sons, especially you Blue Cloud. Know that my love is with you always.”
“Father, I hope you understand when I change the subject. But, I wanted to know how Snow Flower has been while I have been away. Has she ever asked about me?”
“She has asked about you quite often, Blue Cloud,” his father says with a smile.
“In our woman’s circle she always asks me about you, my Son,” Mother Willow adds with a smile.
“I got a flute for her. May I have your permission to take it to her now?”
“Yes, my son,” they both reply.
Blue Cloud walks to the tipi of Snow Flower’s family. Mother Red Rose opens the tipi door. Pretending that this is the first time that she has seen him since his arrival she says, “My son, Blue Cloud, I heard that you had returned. Why have you come to our tipi?”
“Mother Red Rose, I have come to give Snow Flower a gift from my trade route. Do I have your permission to give her this gift?”
“Yes, my Son, let me call her. Snow Flower, Blue Cloud is here and would like to speak with you.”
A very beautiful young Indian maiden walks out of the tipi, dressed in a traditional tribal ankle length dress, with slits up each side to her knees, and matching knee height leather moccasins. Both the dress and moccasins are trimmed with turquoise beads. Her beautiful golden hair frames her gorgeous face and flows to the middle of her back. (Blue Cloud is not the only one that has matured while he has been away.)
“Blue Cloud, it is good to see that you have returned,” greets Snow Flower.
With his eyes as wide as they can get, and his jaw dropped, he says, “I have come to give you a gift, Snow Flower.” He hands her the flute. “I have one that looks the same. But yours has your name on it, and mine has my name on it.”
“It’s a beautiful gift, Blue Cloud. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
“Do you remember the Mountain Lion, Snow Flower?”
“Yes.”
“I just thought that if it ever happened again that we could both play our flutes. Maybe it would lie down and listen like the lizards do.”
“And what do we do after the music is over and he comes after us?”
Blue Cloud smiles, “I guess we had better have our bows and arrows ready.”
“You were always in my thoughts while I was gone, Snow Flower.”
“My heart was always with yours, Blue Cloud.”
CHAPTER 9