WomankindT h e Le a n Y e a r s

Alone. Could you survive the fear and the terror? The darkness of a moonless night? Would your life come to be meaningless? Would despair cloud your thinking? Would you simply let go of all you knew before?

Womankind: The Lean Years is about courage, determination, and abilities demonstrating the capabilities that women unknowingly possess. The book reveals the qualities allowing women left alone to not only survive but to also bring happiness to this task of survival. This book asks the question “Do women need men for survival?” Read and see for yourself.

Dia Lynne Cardo calls Alabama her home but was born and raised in the mountains of Kentucky. Her education comes from the experiences life gives us all. She is divorced but was married to an Army Soldier for twenty-nine years. She has one daughter and two grandsons. She lives quietly among her

fl owers, her writing and the appreciative thoughts of all the good things life has given her.

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Dia Lynne Cardo

Book I I

Womankind Book II

The Lean Years

Dia Lynne Cardo

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Sequel

to

Womankind

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Part One

The

Ancient

One

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The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die in us as we live.

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Introduction

Geronimo’s Last Prayer

Geronimo was falling through the air; he felt the sensation of frothiness. He

reached for his conjuring powers to slow his downward fall, but his powers were

lost to him. He could not stop this horrible act he had committed. He had chosen,

out of reckless pride, to gallop off the enormous mesa. His horse had dislodged

him at the brink of the mesa in order to save itself. He was thrown over the horse’s

head and off the mesa.

He would end his own life rather than lose this battle and come to terms with

the Great White Chief’s punishment. He tilted his head upward and prayed silently

and quickly for forgiveness, O Great Spirit, I do ask myself why I have done this

terrible thing. I see that I have been defiant, prideful, and thoughtless. I have

behaved as if my life meant nothing—my precious life, given to me from you. Dear

Great Spirit, I beg of you, my braves simply obeyed my command—please allow

them to enter the spirit world. I am responsible.

He saw that his fall was all but concluded. He shouted aloud, using the last

breath that would ever enter his lungs, “O Great Spirit, you have guarded and

blessed me all my life. Please extend your mercy and forgiveness to my spirit and

allow me to enter the spirit world.”

There was no pain. There was merely complete blackness as he struck the

tremendous jagged boulder. His wisdom, his courage, his memories, and his pride

were gone. His body was bruised and torn nearly apart. He was now a shell of the

great living man he had been.

The Great White Chief watched Geronimo’s fall. He was saddened by the

loss of such a great warrior—one who had the courage to escape his trap even

though it cost his life. He said a silent prayer for Geronimo’s spirit to the god that

belonged to the white man; he requested unconditional forgiveness.

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The Great Spirit responded to this heartfelt prayer even though the Great

White Chief spoke in silence to his own god. His prayer was spoken with such

grief and respect on behalf of a fellow warrior. The Great Spirit chose to allow the

Great White Chief to observe that his mercy was great and given to all his

creatures.

A great white eagle swooped down from the heights through the darkening

purple sky. From legend, the Great White Chief knew this majestic eagle to be

Fights Puma, Geronimo’s half sister. Her talons were strong and spread far apart.

She gave the impression that she could not hesitate nor allow Geronimo’s precious

body to lie longer than was necessary. In her loving heart, she felt she had to fly

using all the speed that she was capable of and grasp with all gentleness her half

brother, Geronimo.

She lifted her burden tenderly and soared away, far beyond the Great White

Chief’s sight. Many lifelike shadows glided through the darkening sky behind her.

The Great White Chief was privileged to see her bear Geronimo’s shattered, much-

loved, and holy body with faith and reverence to the forgiving and loving bosom of

the Great Spirit.

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Chapter One

The abandoned Apache women were bewildered and ashamed. Their braves

had taken their own lives rather than face the ambush carefully prepared by the

Great White Chief. The women knew it was not the Apache way to display such

cowardice. Apache do not fear punishment or death by the white man’s hand in

battle. The Apache way demanded that they fight bravely even while awaiting the

end of their lives.

Even so, the women prayed for their braves’ spirits—spirits they believed to

be lost and forbidden to enter the spirit world. What more could they do? They

were subservient women. They had been dependent upon their braves for the very

meat that nourished their bodies. Their braves were lost. They had to place their

faith intensely upon the inclination of the Great Spirit.

Their faith did not waver as their children whimpered and died painfully of

starvation. The women reasoned that life’s suffering had come to an end for their

beloved children. It was so that their children had been introduced to the Great

Spirit at birth by the tribal medicine man. He no longer lived to guide the

children’s wandering spirits to the spirit world with his magic smoke and spells.

Therefore, the children’s spirits had to be conveyed to the spirit world by their

ancestors.

Their faith remained as their bellies grew taut with hunger. Their dreams

were pervaded by the sights and smells of meat. They grew lean and frail. Through

all these privations, they continued to keep faith. The women believed as one that

they had to wait for the Great Spirit to manifest his will. This was their only hope

for salvation.

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Chapter Two

The Ancient One lay prostrate, displaying her feelings of humility to the

Great Spirit. She lay on the packed dirt floor of her lodge and prayed. Her hair was

white, thick, and voluminous. It reached beneath her waist. She dressed in thick,

heavy animal furs. Her blood was ice-cold and moved sluggishly through her

veins. She shivered and was reminded of a freezing winter morning even though it

was now high summer.

Her age had not been counted in many turnings of the sun. She had begged

the Great Spirit to release her from the pains of living, but he did not answer her

prayers. She wondered why this was so. She had been a good woman throughout

her long years. How could she continue to live with this terrible pain locked within

her useless, aging, and sagging body?

She was known to the tribe as the Ancient One. The old ones, who had the

knowledge of her birth name and where she had come from, had departed for the

spirit world long ago. Surviving Apache believed Apache blood ran through her

veins.

The medicine man was the last to pass into the spirit world. He left knowing

all these truths. Yet he had not revealed this knowledge. He had been wise. He had

been gifted with a foretelling of her glorious destiny. He did not inform her of this

destiny. He reasoned that the Great Spirit would reveal this destiny to the Ancient

One in his own time.

As the Ancient One prayed, her memories carried her into her past. She had

been stolen in an Apache raid against her village. She was large with child and a

beautiful young woman. She could remember it clearly. Her features were finely

made; they were not round and flat like her people’s features. Her hair was black

and long, reaching to her knees. Her eyes were gleaming black, sparkling with

tears—yet incensed beneath the tears like a stack of burning coals. She saw the

fires and smelled the smoke as her people’s huts burned. She heard their screams