Warrior in Her Bed by Cathleen Galitz

entered in from all directions. A little girl of no more than ten years smiled up at Annie as she reached up to take her free hand. Her dress was decorated with silver bells fashioned from tightly rolled tobacco lids that were intended to represent each day of the year. With each step she took, they jiggled merrily like so many tiny tambourines. A necklace of polished elk teeth clicked softly against a dress of red and black velvet worn by an old woman dancing stiffly and proudly next to her precocious granddaughter. She carried herself with regal bearing. Directly across from Annie was a handsome young man with a fearsome yellow star painted over one eye. The roach he wore on top of his head was covered with porcupine quills. Feathers were arranged on thebacks of other dancers in great fan-like bursts of color.
    Beaded moccasins stepped in time to the music as fringed leather imitated the swaying of tall grass in the breeze. Of the six young men beating a huge drum, only four were in full regalia. Annie wondered if they would be entering the contest dancing later in the day. The other two wore simple T-shirts that were beginning to show stains of sweat from the sustained effort to set a strong beat that did not overshadow the melody of the song itself. A woman who was a champion singer was invited to join in the chanting. Annie thought her voice personified the flight of swallows.
    Never before had she felt such a part of something so beautiful and so sacred.
    â€œHaving fun?” Johnny asked her.
    She nodded, surprised to find that she actually was having more fun than she could remember in a long, long while. One would truly have to be in a depressed state of mind not to enjoy such a joyous celebration of life.
    With hands joined, everyone pulled each other along like a colorful chain, weaving clockwise in tighter and tighter loops. Arms went up in the air as the whole group split apart to let the tribal leaders through. Annie was reminded of Moses parting the Red Sea. An old man wearing a full eagle-feather headdress decorated elaborately with fancy beadwork led the way, dancing as nimbly as if his soul itself was unloosed from a body tired and stooped from the weight of many years.
    When the drums stopped abruptly, the friendship dance continued as singers sustained their chanting.Sombrous and deep, it gave one a glimpse of the value and direction that this glorious tradition provided its people. She was honored to be a part of it.
    The dust was so oppressive that a water truck had to be called in to hose the area down to keep from choking participants and visitors alike. Before such a break was officially proclaimed over the intercom, the announcer stepped forward, playing to the crowd. Fastened with silver medallions, twin braids tinged with gray hung down the front of the man’s colorful costume, which was adorned with feathers from head to toe. He said his name was Stormy Big Shield, and he wielded the microphone with casual ease.
    â€œBefore the actual money competition gets under way, I’d like to take this opportunity to recognize a few special guests in attendance today.”
    He began by introducing the littlest of the dancers, among them his own niece, Cheyenna, a tiny tot whose broad grin accentuated two missing front teeth. Beginning to squirm uncomfortably on the seat beside her, Johnny asked Annie if she wouldn’t like to go get a soft drink before long lines formed at the concessionaires.
    â€œI wouldn’t dream of insulting the speaker like that,” she said, tugging at his elbow and entreating him to sit still.
    He complied with a bottomless sigh. Stormy Big Shield continued speaking, emphasizing in his lyric up-and-down cadence the patriotic pride his people felt for their native country. Considering the history of oppression their ancestors endured for centuries, Annie was touched by the American loyalty reverberating in the crowd.
    â€œI now want to take a moment to honor