The Sire Sheaf

by Russ L. Howard

His hatred of Standing Bull grew stronger, but he decided to follow Mendaka’s wise counsel. “You were right to stay my hand, Brother. The last thing I want to do is make things even worse for her. At this moment everything in me wants to go comfort her and show that I stand with her.”

  “Your instinct to protect her is admirable and reflects well on your character, but you know enough of our ways that the people would judge such a move as a justification of Standing Bull’s accusation. Wait till this cools down then go to her so that people do not think less of her.”

  “Even though I yield to your counsel now, I vow, that someday, when the time is right, I shall lead him down to the pits of hell, whether by my hand or another’s. It matters not.”

  “That’s why we have each other’s back.” Mendaka gave his look of assurance and said, “We are never alone in what we do. It affects us all.”

  Once again Sur Sceaf looked over to where Taneshewa had been standing and she was gone. He searched the throng, but could not discover her in any of her usual crowds.

  “Let it go, my friend,” Mendaka said in a grave tone. “If you try to find her now, it will only add to her shame.”

  “Dak, this is partially my fault. I put her in this position by allowing my interest in her to show so openly.”

  “Beating that fat bull shitless in the rink didn’t help any,” Mendaka chimed in with laughter. “I only wish I had seen it.”

  “I allowed my temper to overrule my common sense,” Sur Sceaf admitted with regret. “I should have foreseen that his damaged pride would cause him to take revenge on Ahy. The pity is, you were not there to stop me.”

  “Well, from now on,” Mendaka said with a firm pat to his back, “keeping you out of trouble is going to be my job. You’re worth too much to us all to let you spoil it all in the heat of passion.”

  * * *

  Taneshewa had fled to the Red Tent, tears burning in streams down her cheeks. Her legs shaking so hard she could hardly bear to stand. She slumped down on a leather hide bench. Though shivering, she lacked the strength to throw another log on the slow burning embers. As sobs erupted out of her belly, Sagwi popped into the tent followed by Mendaho, Little Doe, and Dancing Rabbit. The sight of her friends so eager to comfort her made the tears gush ever so much more. Earlier in the day she had been on top of the world, now the darkness of the night poured over her shattering every dream into a nightmare.

  “I am so humiliated,” she wailed between sobs. “The bastard’s ruined me.”

  “After the way he behaved at the council fire, most people will think he’s just a liar.” Her mother comforted.

  “But many will believe him. I’ll be the laughing stock of everyone in all the camps from the Kalifornias to the Montan from now on. Worst of all, I have brought shame to my father’s house and Surrey is probably regretting he ever met me.”

  “Ahy,” Mendaho said firmly, “Your works and kindnesses are known by everyone. You will still be honored, even if the gossips have a hay day of this for a while. You are highly favored by your father, and Surrey is ruled by the Ur Fyr. Your value has already been determined by him. Besides, I saw his face and he was ready to kill Standing Bull.”

  Ahy shuddered, both from being cold and from what she had just been told.

  Little Doe said, “It’s freezing in here.” She left the protective circle around her and stirred the coals with a stick until they kicked back up, then she added extra logs and warm flames soon engulfed them in orange brightness.

  Dancing Rabbit settled on the bench, put her arms around Taneshewa. “My dear daughter, many among us have made similar mistakes. It’s just yours have been shouted from the tops of the tipis. I wish I could tell you all the hopes your father and I hold for you. I hope you can believe me that we know there is greatness in your future and that happiness will find you. Things we have never told you. Prophecies.”

  “Prophecies?”

  “Yes prophecies. Don’t let the grunts of Standing Bull stop you from being who we all know you are. The role you will play in this coming struggle has been strangely manifested to us. I know little of this Ur Fyr, Meny has mentioned, but I suspect it is the same as the movings of the Great Spirit in our heart.”

  “If I could only believe you weren’t just saying that to comfort me.”

  Sagwi gently wiped the tears from Taneshewa’s cheeks, “It more den comfort, chil. Ya hear me good, dis ain’t nuthin more den da dark before da sun. You just gotta trust dhem Manitous. ‘Member what da Thunder Horse done scryed. It’ll be right soon enough.”

  “If Standing Bull had truly ever loved me, how could he have defamed me so openly like he wanted to hurt me as much as he possibly could?” Taneshewa stared into Sagwi’s kind face. “Oh, God, would that I could bury myself beneath this crater to never be seen again!”

  “Hush now, less em skin walkers hear’d ju. Dis weren’t bout ju, child. Dis is bout Standin Bull’s pride.” She frowned. “But somethin is done come to me slowly.”

  Taneshewa blinked. “What’s that?”

  “If I’s memberin right, ain’t Standin Bull born on da thirteenth day of da Fourth Moon?”

  Taneshewa thought back for a moment. “Yes, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It must mean somethin, cause I’s memberin Surry’s born on da fourth day of da Thirteenth Moon. Him’s xactly da opposite Standin Bull. Dhat what da stars be sayin!”

  * * *

  Early the next morning, before dawn, whilst the Morning Star, Aerendil, shown bright, Sur Sceaf left his tipi and walked to the corrals to groom his stallion. After Sur Sceaf had accepted the congratulations from the talking chiefs last night, he and Mendaka headed up to the rim where they watched shooting stars and discussed his travel plans and what all the changes would mean. Mendaka suggested he go with Sur Sceaf as surety against Standing Bull, but he had insisted Mendaka stay with his family and watch over Taneshewa for him. He feared Standing Bull would somehow take his vindictive anger out on her. The moon disappeared before they made their way back to their tipis. Even then, he had difficulty falling asleep, Ahy’s devastated expression lingered in his mind along with the frustration he felt at not being able to intervene in her behalf. He was the one who should have been punished for this insult, not Ahy, he had provoked Standing Bull to wrath.

  When he had finally slept he had dreamed he was a bullfighter in the ring. Just as the bull was charging him, he fell into a pit full of rats, and awoke clawing at the ground. It was most unsettling.

  Leaving the tipi there was a small campfire burning near the tack tent. Counting Bird was busy checking the lashings on the corrals and hailed him as he approached.

  “Good morning Counting Bird. Anything unusual happen during your night watch?” Sur Sceaf inquired politely.

  The old brave came towards him. “Nothing out of the usual, except Pock Face came back and said he thought he might have dropped his knife when he was grooming his horse, I allowed him to search inside the corral, but he didn’t stay long. He only stayed long enough to get the horses unsettled and then took off. I asked him if he found his knife, but he just grunted in his usual weaselly way.”

  Sur Sceaf glanced toward the corral where White Fire stood by the fence watching him. “Well, if you need to get some sleep, I’m going to be feeding and grooming White Fire and I can keep an eye out for any trouble.”

  Counting Bird grinned, “After all that happened last night, I could use the sleep. Damned sad thing happened to Ahy. T’weren’t right. No it weren’t. That girl didn’t deserve that.” He picked up his bags and took for his camp. “Just douse the fire when you leave.” Once again he started on his way, then stopped abruptly and turned back. “The people of my clan, are very happy you have been chosen to be the chief of chiefs, Surrey, and liked the way you shut that big mouth, Standing Bull, up in the rink yesterday. That horrible stuff he said bout Taneshewa. I wager you, none of it’s true.” He held a thumb up and raised his eyebrows. “Good jou
rney to Fort Rock.”

  “Thank you, Counting Bird. Thanks for all your support. Say goodbye to Stays-Her-Ground for me,” Sur Sceaf said with a smile.

  As the brave walked away into the early morning mist, Sur Sceaf took a brush out of the tackle tent then gathered hay from the nearby haystack and greeted White Fire, who snorted his approval of his master’s arrival by welcoming him with a nudge. After opening the corral gate Sur Sceaf ran his hand up and down White Fire’s face then hugged his head.

  “It’ll be a couple days ride my friend, but you will love the browse of the high desert. Looks like Going Snake did a fine job of grooming you last night when he put you away.”

  White Fire snorted and swished his tail as if in answer

  “Yes, you trust the boy. He has a good spirit doesn’t he?” Sur Sceaf put the hay on the ground while he began brushing over White Fire, admiring the fine grooming job Going Snake had done. “Oh, this isn’t going to take very long at all, he really did do a good job on you, old boy. Made your mane shine with those nettles he’s been feeding you. Didn’t he?”

  Dawn broke over the crater and birds announced its arrival. It would have been a day to rejoice and sing psalms to the gods, but his heart was heavy and ached for the pain he knew Ahy was suffering.

  He finished the back and withers and started to brush down the tail. He was nearly finished. As he was separating a few tangled strands, something sharp and hard stung his hand. Carefully, he worked the boney object free. He was about to discard it when he noticed something odd about it. It was the skull of a baby opossum with buffalo hair pasted on it, and owl feet wrapped in stinging nettles and cockle burrs.

  “What the hell! It’s a curse charm.” His anger rekindled. “That damned Standing Bull. That’s why the bull hair so I would know I’d been cursed. Coward that he is, he sent Pock Face to do his dirty work in the night. I swear one day I’m going to make flies nests out of those bastards.”

  Sur Sceaf searched deep in his memory for the lesson Sagwi had taught him as a young man on how to break an evil curse. ‘If da curse be placed on da animal den you must take da evil token, roll it in da poop of dat animal, den place it in da coals of a dyin fire. Dis will usually break da curse or make it weak.’

  Sur Sceaf glanced around and found some of White Fire’s manure. He bent down rolling the curse charm in the dung when he heard a boy’s voice cry, “Eeooh, what are you doing?”

  He turned to see Going Snake squatting down to watch. “I am breaking a curse that was put on White Fire.” Sur Sceaf stood up, took the evil token, and placed it in the watchman’s campfire. “There, it’s done.”

  “You forgot one step” Going Snake said. “You must sprinkle sage leaves over the fire. Wait here, I’ll get some for you.” Going Snake was off to the tack tent, returning with a sage bundle which was usually used for de-worming the horses with. “You have to be the one to sprinkle it over the fire,” as he handed the bundle to Sur Sceaf. He took the bundle and crushed the leaves over the flames causing them to flare up, crackle, and emit their pleasant cleansing aroma.

  “Who would want to curse you...Oh, yes, Standing Bull. Mom said, ’If Standing Bull wasn’t so in love with himself he would not have anyone to love him at all.’ Seems you riled him up pretty bad in the rink and then last night. Least that’s what I was hearing.”

  Sur Sceaf dropped the last of the sage over the traveler’s curse totem and said, “There. Does that do it?’

  “Yep! So much for Standing Bull. Probably send the curse right back at him.”

  “As you well know, a bull’s stall needs cleaning daily.”

  Sur Sceaf cleansed his hands with ash and water before turning his attention to the precocious boy. Having Going Snake follow him around made him feel like his own children were present and provided a measure of comfort for his nostalgia. “What are you doing up so early, little fellow?”

  “Father sent me to get the gear out of the tack tent for him and Onamingo. They’ll be here soon.” He hurried back to the tent and began hauling the gear out to the corral, reminding Sur Sceaf of his own son, Aelfheah, when he first came to the stables at about the same age.

  The lad could barely carry the saddles, so Sur Sceaf offered to help. “No, no, Surrey. This is a great honor and I must show them I’m becoming a man. I must grow stronger. That’s all. Now, let me do it all by myself.”

  “I understand. Go to it.” Sur Sceaf went into the tack tent and was inspecting the contents of his pack when he heard voices coming from outside. Hearing his name spoken made him cock his ear toward them.

  “Get on along to the women’s tent now, boy,” Mendaka directed Going Snake, “and tell them we will be to breakfast as soon as we saddle up. Have your mother make a sack of food for Surrey. Now hurry on!”

  “But I haven’t finished. Let me prove I can do it Father, please,” Going Snake pleaded.

  “I know you can do it, Son, or I would have never sent you to saddle our horses, but it’s more important now that you do what I said to do, before Surrey leaves. Now get along.”

  Sur Sceaf listened as the deep voice of Onamingo was the next to be recognized. “This friend of yours from the Swan People, is it true what I have heard that he had drawn his scramasax against Standing Bull during the pow wow, but you stopped him?”

  “It is true. He is more honorable than any man I have known and filled with the spirit of life. He is a true brother, and my soul is knit to his forever, but like all men he has flaws. His is a very bad temper. He did not understand how important it is to never engage in personal fighting at a pow wow.”

  “I, too, have come to embrace him as one of us, for he is. I feel a familiar spirit in him. It moves me as I know it will move others. If what you tell me is so, then, perhaps he will heal my daughter’s heart and remove her shame. I will forgive him this offense against the Rules of the Pow Wow, and I thank you that you kept the matter under your hat. Never let the other chiefs know of this. We must always cover a brother’s sin so that they have space to grow in.”

  There was a pause before Mendaka asked, “So, I guess you know the two of them are starting to climb into the canoe together?”

  “That was obvious to me the first day he arrived.” They laughed. “I mean which would you choose, a farting bull or a white stag?” Again they laughed and he could hear them slapping one another in jest.

  “Well, we knew Standing Bull to be a cull,” Mendaka said. “We should never be shocked at his actions. He will always corrupt the ground wherever he goes. Bullshit is alright in the garden, but there is no place for it in a council fire. He’s been trouble. He is trouble. And he will be trouble wherever he goes. So good riddance to him. May he take his stench elsewhere.”

  Sur Sceaf heard what he thought was Mendaka spitting over his shoulder. It was the Sharaka way of expressing the ridding of a foul tasting person.

  He heard the sound of the cinching of saddles before Onamingo declared, “If what Standing Bull said about my daughter had been at any other time than the pow wow, he would have been forever banished. A father should never have to be placed in such a position. My shame, I can live with, but to see my little girl suffer was too much for me to bear. Mendaka, they could let a vulture eat my entrails out every day of my life, and it would not have been as painful to me as the wound Standing Bull gave her. I, like the swan lord, had to restrain myself from killing him on the spot. I say it’s damned fortunate for him that he left camp.”

  “I felt to do likewise and if I hadn’t taken Sur Sceaf off into the dark to cool him down, I am sure he would have cleaved Standing Bull in half.”

  Soon Sur Sceaf heard the jingle of a bridle followed by the snorting of the horses and their hooves thwacking as they walked away. He waited till the sound of the hoof beats could no longer be heard, then left the tent carrying his pack and saddle. After saddling White Fire and securing his pack, he filled a bucket from the leather trough and carefully smothered the watchman’s fire. Leading W
hite Fire by the reins he headed for the Red Tent to say his final goodbye.

  It was apparent, someone had spread the word he was leaving for Fort Rock. He suspected, the little rascal, Going Snake. Masses of people gathered to say their goodbyes. It was heart-warming and comforting to think so many were entrusting him with their future.

  Sur Sceaf stopped and chatted with cluster after cluster of the well-wishers. He held White Fire’s reins while he nibbled the sparse grass and moseyed along. He had expected to be on the road by the third hour after dawn, but that time had long passed by the time he had squeezed the hands and hugged the friends along the way. As he approached the Red Tent, he saw Onamingo and Mendaka standing outside along with the talking chiefs, dressed in full regalia.

  Sur Sceaf said, “Hail to the chiefs and their families this morning!”

  Onamingo walked over and grasped Sur Sceaf by the shoulders. “May the Thunder Beings protect you, Lord Prince Sur Sceaf, Chief of Chiefs. We will await your return with the Quailor Tribe. We have not been patrolling the high desert since the beginning of our gathering because we are of such great numbers. So be on guard as there may be Pitters who have snuck in, out there. Good journey!”

  Each talking chief likewise grasped Sur Sceaf by the shoulders, wished him the best, promised their help, and bade him, ’Good journey’.

  Mendaka then hugged Sur Sceaf. “I am still available to accompany you. As Onamingo said, it may be dangerous to travel alone.”

  “No, my good friend. I must seek the counsel of the gods on this journey. For this I will need isolation and a quiet mind. Anyway, your family needs you. I am accustomed to traveling alone and know the precautions I need to take.”

  Mendaka sighed. “Then I shall join you at Fort Rock as soon as the fyrds arrive. Good journey!”

  Snake Horse handed Onamingo a package wrapped in white brain-tanned doeskin. After unwrapping the sacred ancestral peace pipe, Onamingo handed it to Sceaf. “This is the sacred pipe of Tah-Man-Ea. It has come down through the Father Guardians of our people to me. The smoke of this pipe will ascend to the gods and signal that you want their help. Smoke the pipe when you wish to entreat the aid of the Thunder Beings, and the Manitous will answer.”