Dances with Wolves

“Lieutenant Dunbar had fallen in love. He had fallen in love with this wild, beautiful country and everything it contained. It was the kind of love people dream of having with other people: selfless and free of doubt, reverent and everlasting. His spirit had received a promotion and his heart was jumping.” 

Not a religious man, Dunbar finds a kind of religious ecstasy in the great open prairie. Already, he has bonded with the majestic wilds; on first meeting, he becomes loyal to it and to whatever it might contain. 

“What he might have lacked was pale in light of what he had. His mind was free. There was no work and there was no play. Everything was one. It didn’t matter whether he was hauling water up from the stream or tying into a hearty dinner. Everything was the same, and he found it not at all boring. He thought of himself as a single current in a deep river. He was separate and he was whole, all at the same time. It was a wonderful feeling.”

Dunbar’s tenure at Fort Sedgewick teaches him to see the world differently from his old, civilized view. The human rules of what’s important and what’s not seem no longer to apply. His mind, untethered, shifts into a freer, looser attitude. The prairie replaces the tired complexities of his old life with a simpler, rolling flow of grassy hills and endless peace. 

“It might have seemed lunatic, one man trying to prepare for the onslaught of countless enemies, but the lieutenant possessed a certain strength of character that allowed for working hard when he had very little. It was a good trait and it helped make him a good soldier.” 

Dunbar is willing to prepare for a hopeless battle in defense of his fort; this stands him in good stead with the Comanche, who respect his bravery and sense of honor.

“The furious rush of the ponies as they pounded past. Their shining coats, the feathers flying from their bridles and manes and tails, the decorations on their rumps. And the men on their backs, riding with the abandon of children on make-believe toys. Their rich, dark skins, the lines of sinewy muscle standing out clearly. The gleaming, braided hair, the bows and lances and rifles, the paint running in bold lines down their faces and arms.”

“It was a magnificent sight, this great moon, bright as an egg yolk, filling the night sky as if it were a whole new world come to call just on him.” 

Dunbar watches full the moon rise, his senses now tuned to the wild wonders of the prairie. A recent encounter with a band of Comanche has quickened his perception; a new chapter in his life is at hand, heralded by the Moon. 

“What had he expected of these people? He must have thought they would run out and throw their arms around him, speak his language, have him to supper, share his jokes, without so much as a how-do-you-do. How lonely he must be. How pitiful he was to entertain any expectations at all, grasping at these outlandish straws, hoping hopes that were so far-flung that he could not be honest with himself. He had managed to fool himself about everything, fool himself into thinking he was something when he was nothing.”

Dunbar brings Stands With A Fist to the Comanche village; the people there proceed to ignore him, and his hopes for a happy meeting are dashed. Dunbar begins to doubt his idea of a new life on the frontier. 

“[…] killing the white solider had crossed his mind several times. He had long thought white men were no more than useless irritations, coyotes getting around the meat. But more than once this white soldier had showed some bravery. He was friendly, too. And he was funny. Very funny.” 

As a warrior, Wind In His Hair would just as soon kill Dunbar as look at him. But when he and Kicking Bird meet with the white soldier at his fort, the meeting goes well, and Dunbar impresses them with his entertaining ways and his generosity. Maybe this white man can be allowed to live. 

“A common sparrow had found its way through the open flap and fluttered into the lodge. Knowing it had trapped itself, the young bird beat its wings frantically as it bounced off one hide wall after another. Kicking Bird watched as the sparrow climbed closer to the smoke hole and suddenly disappeared to freedom.” 

Kicking Bird, himself trapped in a tangle of responsibilities, watches the bird find its way out of its own predicament and takes heart. Now knowing its way, the bird returns, perches on the head of Stands With A Fist, and then flies off. Kicking Bird knows this means something important but doesn’t yet know what it is. The sparrow, finding its way out of trouble and returning to perch on Stands With A Fist’s head, suggests that the woman will also find the way out of her own emotional torment as she mourns the recent death of her warrior husband. 

“Yes, you are Comanche. I do not ask for you to become something else. I am asking you to put your fear behind and your people ahead. Meet the white man. Try to find your white tongue with him, and when you do, we three will make a talk that will serve all the people. I have thought on this for a long time.” 

Stands With A Fist is frightened at the prospect of being an interpreter between the white soldier and her Comanche people; she fears he will pull her away from them. Kicking Bird tells her that her knowledge of the white tongue won’t take her away from the Comanche but will help them to deal more effectively with the arrival of the white people. 

“[…] as he sat by the dwindling fire and listened to the yip of coyotes down by the river, it crossed his mind that he might have stumbled on to a better life. In this life he wanted for very little. Cisco and Two Socks weren’t human, but their unwavering loyalty was satisfying in ways that human relationships had never been. He was happy with them. And of course there were the Indians. They held a distinct pull for him. At the least they made for excellent neighbors, well-mannered, open, and sharing. Though he was much too white for aboriginal ways, he felt more than comfortable with them. There was something wise about them. Maybe that was why he’d been drawn from the start.” 

Dunbar realizes that his new life has begun to take over from his old one, and, though he still considers himself a representative of the US government, he doesn’t give those responsibilities much thought. His new friends, both human and animal, dominate his world. 

“He did not belong to the Indians. He did not belong to the whites. And it was not time for him to belong to the stars. He belonged right where he was now. He belonged nowhere.” 

Dunbar watches the Comanche celebrate killing the white hunters who had butchered buffalo for their hides and tongues, and he realizes that, as a US officer, he is in an untenable position. He understands the Comanche attitude, but he also can’t sanction the murder of white settlers. 

“They were primitive people. They lived in a big, lonely, alien world that was written off by his own people as nothing more than hundreds of worthless miles to be crossed. But the facts of their lives had grown less important to him. They were a group who lived and prospered through service. Service was how they controlled the fragile destiny of their lives. It was constantly being rendered, faithfully and without complaint, to the simple, beautiful spirit of the way they lived, and in it Lieutenant Dunbar found a peace that was to his liking. He did not deceive himself. He did not think of becoming an Indian. But he knew that so long as he was with them, he would serve the same spirit. He was made a happier man by this revelation.” 

Dunbar’s was a life service and sacrifice in the Army, but with the Comanche he understands what those ideals really mean. They generate a sense of togetherness that comes from working daily at a common purpose, a tangible sense of meaning that he hasn’t known until now. 

“Having been a constant subject of discussion for many weeks, the lieutenant was well known to them: as a possible god, as a clown, as a hero, and as an agent of mystery. Unbeknownst to the lieutenant, he had achieved a rare status in Comanche culture, a status that was perhaps most appreciated by its women. He was a celebrity.” 

Dunbar, newly a hero for his part in the buffalo hunt, and sporting the beautiful breastplate given to him by Wind In His Hair, draws the interest of everyone at the village. Many of the women see him as powerful, and they are attracted to him as a man. 

“He didn’t know exactly when it happened, but it came to him that his dream of being posted on the frontier, a dream that he had concocted to serve the small boundaries of military service, had pointed from the beginning to the limitless adventure in which he was now engaged. Countries and armies and races paled beside it. He had discovered a great thirst and he could no more turn it down than a dying man could refuse water.” 

Dunbar’s transformation from outsider to tribe member gathers speed, and his interest in the affairs of his old world withers as he ventures beyond the frontier of his own soul and into the new world of Comanche life. 

“The future was as open as the day he was born, and it sent his spirits soaring. He was the only man on earth, a king without subjects, rambling across the limitless territory of his life.” 

Dunbar feels freed from his past; galloping across the prairie on Cisco, his spirit soars with the freshness of a new life. 

“She dropped her head. When she looked back up, Dances With Wolves felt swallowed, just as he had felt out on the prairie with Timmons for the first time. Her eyes were the eyes of a soulful person, filled with a beauty few men could know. They were eternal. Dances With Wolves fell in love when he saw this. Stands With A Fist had already fallen in love.” 

Through the weeks of teaching him the Comanche language, Stands With A Fist’s heart softens for Dances With Wolves, until neither can push away their feelings any longer. To him, she is a wonder in her own right, but she also personifies the magnificent beauty of the prairie, the place he most loves. 

“Suddenly she remembered their first meeting, clear as if it were yesterday. Riding back, half-conscious, her blood all over him. She remembered the safety she had felt, his arm around her back, her face pressed against the strange-smelling fabric of his jacket. Now she was understanding what it meant. She understood that what she felt now was what she felt then. Then it had only been a seed, buried and out of sight, and she hadn’t known what it meant. But the Great Spirit knew. The Great Spirit had let the seed grow. The Great Spirit, in all its Great Mystery, had encouraged the seed to life every step of the way.” 

Stands With A Fist, in love with Dances With Wolves, sees that her struggles to resist him have been fruitless, and that her true feelings for him were there all along and meant to be. 

“Dances With Wolves could not take his eyes off the tiny figure of his bride. She stood unmoving, her head bowed slightly. She was wearing the good doeskin dress with the elk teeth on the bodice. The special moccasins were on her feet again, and around her neck was the little pipe-bone choker. Once, as Kicking Bird spoke, she looked up, and when he saw the whole of her striking face, Dances With Wolves was reassured. He would never tire of looking at her.” 

At the wedding ceremony, Dances With Wolves knows for sure that Stands With A Fist loves him as much as he does her. Their marriage promises to be a happy one. 

“His new life was richer than ever, and it showed in the way Dances With Wolves carried himself. Without dramatics he was losing his naïveté but not surrendering his charm. He was becoming more manly without abandoning his spark, and he was settling smoothly into his role as a cog without losing the stamp of his distinct personality.” 

His new life as a Comanche warrior suits Dances With Wolves so well that the many rules of the culture don’t restrict but instead enhance his own personality. He is a man who has found his true calling. 

“Kicking Bird, always attuned to the soul of things, was immensely proud of his protégé, and one evening, at the end of an after-dinner stroll, he placed a hand on Dances With Wolves’s shoulder and said: ‘There are many trails in this life, but the one that matters most, few men are able to walk…even Comanche men. It is the trail of a true human being. I think you are on this trail. It is a good thing for me to see. It is good for my heart.’” 

Dances With Wolves is an excellent student of Comanche culture who shows deep interest in all things spiritual. Along with the young man’s overall transformation and growth, this greatly gladdens Kicking Bird. Each of them is a seeker after meaning and purpose, and their friendship has amplified their quests. 

“[…] he heard the sergeant whisper coarsely: ‘You turned Injin, didn’cha?’” 

Dunbar has become Dances With Wolves, but when he returns to Fort Sedgewick to retrieve his journal—a document that would make trouble for his Comanche friends—he’s captured, and his changed state repulses the white soldiers, who view him with contempt as a deserter. 

“Killing those soldiers at the river was a good thing. It made me free and my heart was filled with joy to see my brothers coming to help me. I did not mind killing those men at all. I was glad to do it.” 

Dunbar’s transformation to Dances With Wolves is so complete that he sees the white soldiers the way Comanche warriors do, as an enemy to be killed. For him, there is no turning back, nor would he want to. 

“Without relying on the senses that were now beginning to play out, Ten Bears had actually begun to feel the life of his people. From boyhood he had been vested with a special shrewdness, but this was much more. This was seeing with his whole self, and instead of feeling old and used up, Ten Bears was invigorated by the strange and mysterious power that had come to him.” 

Ten Bears, bright when young and wise with age, discovers a kind of sensory power that transcends his failing eyes and ears, enabling him to feel his way to good decisions for the band. Having learned so much about the natural world and his people, he now tests the waters of a reality slightly removed from everyday life. His insights become more uncannily correct than ever.