by Win Blevins
But the women would not let it end. They trilled their tongues, they cried out, they themselves danced—they forced the singers and drummer to go on.
And on they went, louder, stronger, firmer of beat, more passionate of voice. Sam swam into the lyrics. He heard no sentences but some words were Sun, Eagle, courage, blood, Grandfather.
When the singers rolled into the fourth repetition, normally the last one, the women again would not let them stop. In Sam’s mind their trills turned into commands. “Dance, dance, fly, fly.”
Harder and harder he danced, wilder and wilder, he knew not why.
Again and again the women insisted. Again and again the musicians roused themselves for one more time. Again and again Sam somehow, barely, found energy where there was none, and he danced, and danced…
He collapsed.
“Do not touch him!” the women cried.
Bell Rock sat quietly beside the fallen dancer.
SAM FELL FREELY. He saw nothing, heard nothing, couldn’t know that he was falling, except for the sense within that he was…
Sam was within the earth. He grasped the tail of a snake.
My oldest enemy.
The snake looked back at Sam and smiled, a smile impossible to interpret, maybe inviting, maybe mocking.
It writhed forward, dragging Sam behind. Unconquerable enemy.
Sam scraped against nothing, felt no resistance—being dragged felt almost like floating.
They slid through a kind of tunnel.
Sam accepted whatever was happening to him, and accepted the snake as his guide. Within him all was acceptance.
They came to a widening, a kind of chamber. The snake turned. Gradually, it coiled itself—not round and round, as snakes do, but stacking itself upward, lining itself against the wall.
Instantly, the snake’s face was hideous, eyes flashing evil. The tongue lashed out into Sam’s face. Scornful laughter flash-flooded through the labyrinth of his mind.
Sam shuddered. He wanted to duck backward, but there was nowhere to go.
He thrust his face toward the snake. Abruptly, within the storm, he felt calm. Yes, calm. Confidently, he reached around the slavering tongue and grasped the body of the snake with both hands.
So quickly and deftly even he didn’t know what he was doing, he tied the snake into knots.
He drew back and looked at his handiwork. He had tied his mortal enemy into Celtic love knots.
Sam laughed immensely, laughed at himself, laughed at his fear, laughed at life…
And woke gently into ordinary reality.
BELL ROCK WAS looking down at him in a kindly way.
“I have seen something,” murmured Sam.
Bell Rock cupped a hand at his ear.
Sam realized he hadn’t spoken out loud.
“I have seen something.”
He was aware that Bell Rock was hoping for the traditional words, “I think things will be all right.” But Sam wasn’t sure what he’d seen.
Bell Rock gave Sam a drink of water. He felt some Jordan had been crossed, and drank of it.
“Now let’s smoke and you tell me about it,” said Bell Rock.
A FEW MINUTES, or millennia, later Bell Rock repeated slowly, “And Snake is your oldest enemy.”
“Yes, the oldest enemy of all my people.” Sam felt utterly weak. At the same time, if Bell Rock had challenged him to climb a mountain, he would have set out confidently.
Bell Rock nodded several times. “You have asked to see a small victory over an enemy,” he said, “and have seen a great one.”
He stood up and walked outside the lodge. Through the branches, across the twilight, Sam heard him call to the people, “He thinks things will be all right.”
A tumult of trills and cheers lifted Sam. He swooped up on the wave of sound, and slid down the far side, and slept.
Part Six
Coming Back
Chapter Twenty-One
“LET’S GET CLOSE,” said Sam.
“Big risk.” Flat Dog eyeballed him. But Flat Dog wouldn’t fight it. Since the sun dance, Sam’s medicine had been too good for that.
The Head Cutter village spread out along the Buffalo Tongue River where it came out of the Big Horn Mountains. The evening fires defined the circle of lodges. They’d found the right village straight off because Sam trusted his instinct. It was the very first village they came to. They knew because Blue Medicine Horse’s pony grazed with the horse herd. Flat Dog was impressed. Sam told himself to keep trusting his instincts.
Since the sun dance, Sam’s prestige had been high. When he said there would be no large war party against the Head Cutters, just two men, the Crows hid their disappointment and accepted that. Flat Dog accepted it. People would have done whatever he said. Sam got everything he hoped for except a chance to talk to Meadowlark.
Now he fingered his gage d’amour. “Let’s go.”
Coy slunk along with them. The coyote knew the silence of the hunter.
The early darkness on this November night was halved by a gibbous moon. Sam wanted to stick to the shadows.
He had big problems. What Flat Dog wanted was only to take a Head Cutter scalp. What Sam wanted was to get his father’s rifle back. The Celt belonged to Sam. So he had to find it. He hoped the man with the two-horned buffalo headdress still had it. He had no idea how he would set about getting it, none. Maybe he’d set fire to the tipi and take advantage of whatever happened. No, that might do harm to The Celt.
Since the dance, actually, Sam had the sense that if he kept things simple, whatever he tried would work. He just needed to go straight toward whatever goal he had, and act without question, and things would go slick. That’s what he was doing now.
They knew where the sentries were. They’d watched last night and the night before. The village wasn’t on high alert, not during a winter camp. Winter was a poor time for raiding, unless your medicine was particular in telling you otherwise.
Very, very slowly, they worked their way close. In the trees behind the circle, not twenty steps from the lodges, they stopped. In his usual way, Coy moved with them and stopped with them. Sam could hear his own breathing, and made it slow and quiet. For a long time he and Flat Dog stood perfectly still, their blankets helping them endure the cold. They watched. Sam felt the danger in his nostrils, and he liked it.
The evening was mild. People walked back and forth across the circle, ducking in and out of tipis.
After an incredibly long time Sam began to wonder if he’d lost his mind.
Just then Flat Dog nodded slightly to the south of the circle.
The figure moving—Two Horns. Was it really him? Sam recognized the body shape, but the moonlight didn’t catch the face. Had he come out of the tipi with the two sleeping dogs in front?
He crossed to one of the two tipis at the circle’s entrance. Someone important. He scratched the flap and slipped in. Almost immediately, he came out and crossed the circle back to the tipi next to the one he came out of. This time he just stuck his head in. Then he went back past the sleeping dogs and into his lodge.
Sam and Flat Dog nodded at each other. His lodge, probably.
A girl came out.
Sam was intrigued. The girl, a teenager by her looks, just stood in front of the tipi. Soon he saw girls standing singly in front of two other lodges, and young men beginning to move around. One young fellow came up to the pair in front of Two Horns’ lodge and folded the girl into his blanket. Courting.
Sam sat through an hour or so of courtship, warming himself with thoughts of Meadowlark.
Suddenly he whispered to Flat Dog, “Hold Coy. I’m going to get closer.”
Flat Dog shot him a you’re crazy look.
Sam smiled and repeated, “Closer.”
He had an idea. Now he needed to make sure he could recognize the face of Two Horns’ daughter.
He stole carefully through the shadows of the cottonwoods. He planned to get the lodge between him and the two
young lovers and then slip out onto the moon-shadowed side for a look.
On full alert, he stepped out of the trees. Nothing. He padded to the back of the lodge. He could hear the chatter of women’s or girls’ voices inside. Suddenly, a man’s voice rose over the others, and the female voices went silent.
Sam inched around the lodge and ducked under the right smoke pole. He decided he’d better get low. He crawled out far enough to see.
Damn. The girl’s back was to him. Her boyfriend’s face was clear in the moonlight, but…
Two Horns’ voice again, louder but further away.
Two Horns stepped out of the lodge and said something firm to his daughter. She turned, and her face caught the light perfectly, a round face with an impish smile.
She looked directly at him.
Sam wanted to turn into dry grass, or a slinking dog, or a buffalo dropping. He was caught. He brought his legs up under him, ready to run.
But the girl chirped something merrily, threw a final glance at her boyfriend, and ducked into the lodge. The boyfriend called something to her. Sam wished he spoke Lakota. Now he would probably know her name.
Two Horns looked straight at Sam. For a long moment he studied the shadow.
Attack! Sam’s mind screamed at him. This is your chance! Attack!
His legs tightened but didn’t propel him forward. Where was The Celt?
Two Horns ducked back into the lodge.
SAM HID NEAR the path that the women used to get water the next morning, waiting for Imp. He couldn’t keep calling her Two Horns’ daughter in his mind. To him, her name was Imp.
She walked by with an empty pail, back with a full one.
Sam waited and watched carefully, his hand on Coy. Then they slipped away.
He talked about it with his friend. Flat Dog looked full of unspoken words, and Sam knew what they were. “Dammit, you’re taking too many chances.”
But Sam also had his instincts, and he felt sure of when to take chances and when not. “The water path is not a good place,” he said.
Sam saw his friend’s face struggle. Flat Dog always wanted to pitch in, not hold things back. Since he couldn’t go against medicine, though, he said nothing.
“Let’s just watch today,” Sam said.
Just watching almost cost them their chance.
The Head Cutter men stayed in camp, talking or working on weapons. A dozen women went out into a field a mile away and dug at the earth with root sticks. A creek separated the field from a wooded hill. Sam and Flat Dog watched from the timber.
“Prairie turnips,” said Flat Dog.
At midday Imp and an older woman came. “Two Horns’ wife?”
Flat Dog shrugged. Lying down, Coy panted and looked curiously from face to face.
They could only watch—too many women around.
About midafternoon the women all left at once. As they were walking away, though, Imp suddenly turned and trotted toward the creek. Her mother waited, then walked after the daughter. Imp started plucking something off the wild rose bushes, probably rose hips.
Suddenly Sam knew. This was their chance.
The mother was still walking toward Imp. The other women were a hundred yards ahead. The way to the village led through some trees. Keep picking. Sam looked at Flat Dog, jerked his head sideways, and the three of them slipped down the hill.
Edge of the timber. Women still picking. Wait.
Now take a chance. Cross the creek. If they look, rush them.
He motioned to Flat Dog.
As Coy skittered across and Sam and Flat Dog waded unsteadily ankle deep, the two women dropped to their knees and started pulling something out of the creek. Watercress, Sam saw. They wanted watercress.
Sam reached the bank and walked steadily toward the women’s backs.
They kept their faces to the creek.
Closer, closer. Sam scarcely dared to breathe. He wanted to laugh out loud at his luck.
Two steps away he slipped the blanket off his shoulders. Flat Dog did the same. Sam pounced and wrapped Imp in his blanket. She shrieked, but he held her tight.
Flat Dog had the mother, kicking and screaming furiously.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Coy howled, maybe in triumph.
“GO GET THE horses!” Sam half-whispered.
Flat Dog left at a trot. Coy stood guard over the two women.
The mounts were staked in high willows on the back side of the hill. Sam hoped Flat Dog got back before Two Horns came looking. He told himself Two Horns probably wouldn’t show up until twilight. That was probably.
Sam looked at the women. He’d kept them in the blankets and bound one with his breechcloth, the other with the belt that held it up. He felt odd standing around buck naked below the waist, and chill from standing around without his blanket.
The women were quiet. They’d given up on crying out.
All three of them, and Coy, were hidden behind huge boulders on the field side of the creek. Sam peered around the end of one boulder toward the village trail.
When Flat Dog got back, Sam used his bridle rope to tie the women and put his breechcloth back on. Then he had a quick talk with Flat Dog, speaking Crow. The women probably didn’t speak English, surely not Crow.
“We won’t hurt the women,” Sam said.
Flat Dog’s eyes lit up. One of the great coups, an honor you could boast about for a lifetime, was to kill an enemy’s woman right in front of him. Wife and daughter both—this was an incredible opportunity.
Sam could see that Flat Dog was thinking wildly. “Is this your medicine? Or just your peculiar white-man ways?” The first Flat Dog would respect. The second he’d jump right over.
Finally, Sam said, “You will kill Two Horns.”
Flat Dog nodded. Coy gave a little yip.
TWO HORNS CAME out of the trees. Yes, he was carrying The Celt. Sam let out a big breath. It was working.
Two Horns was riding a pinto, probably on the off chance that there was trouble.
The Celt. Sam could feel the heft of the half stock in his left hand, the smooth pull of the trigger under his right index finger.
Two Horns walked the pinto forward slowly. Though he was armed and mounted, his guard wasn’t really up.
Wife and daughter. For a moment Sam lost track of his hatred. Then he thought of how the man counted coup on Blue Medicine Horse’s body so thirstily, and got it back.
Two Horns was still a couple of hundred steps off. Sam thought he’d better act before he got within hearing distance.
He held Coy, because the coyote liked to play with Paladin. “Forward,” he said in a tone the mare would recognize.
She walked out into the meadow and took a few steps.
“Circle left,” Sam said, not too loud.
Paladin loped in a clockwise circle fourteen steps across.
Sam and Flat Dog looked hard at Two Horns, trying to guess what the man was thinking. Though he may have recognized Paladin, the horse was loose. Sam would bet Two Horns’ mind was shouting, “Get that good-looking horse.”
“Circle right,” said Sam.
Paladin reversed course and loped out toward Two Horns and then arced back toward Sam.
Now Two Horns turned and rode away. Sam’s heart lurched.
At the trees he stopped, dismounted, and tied his mount. He came walking forward carrying a short lead rope, in no hurry. He knew better than to rush toward the strange horse and scare her off.
When Paladin got nearest to them in her circle, Sam said, “Stand.”
Paladin did. Sam would say no more, afraid of being heard.
Two Horns now approached gently.
Flat Dog drew his bow string far back.
Two Horns uncoiled the lead rope and held it out in both hands.
The arrow struck deep into his belly.
WHILE FLAT DOG took the scalp, Sam reclaimed The Celt. He put his rifle to his shoulder and felt its balance. A very good feeling.
>
“Touch him,” said Flat Dog. Sam hesitated, then realized. Flat Dog had already made the first formal touch, coup, and the second belonged to Sam. He performed it seriously.
Then he had to get his shooting pouch off the dying man’s shoulder. Two Horns was glaring fiercely at Sam, or trying to glare fiercely. The force was slipping away. Sam worked the pouch off. He looked into Two Horns’ eyes. It took a long time to die from a gut wound.
Coy sniffed at Two Horns’ blood on his belly, and Sam told him no.
Sam took Two Horns’ knife too. Then, calmly, he cut the man’s throat.
When he stood up, he asked himself if he did it out of compassion. The answer was, Yes, mostly.
He walked across the meadow, untied Two Horns’ pinto mare, and led her back. A horse was good booty.
Then he untied the women, took the blankets off, and retied them, avoiding their eyes. This time he made the bonds only half tight.
One look into the field and they knew what had happened. Though they said nothing, he felt the daggers from their eyes.
Five minutes to get loose, thought Sam, and ten minutes to run to the village. It will be dark by then. Time enough.
Flat Dog came up with the bloody scalp dangling from one hand and dripping blood onto the tawny winter grass. He and the women looked at each other darkly. Sam didn’t like seeing their faces.
“Come,” Sam called to Paladin. “Let’s go,” he told Flat Dog.
“Fast,” said Flat Dog.
Sam mounted Paladin, the new horse on lead.
Two Horns’ widow said clearly in the Crow language, “I will remember you with hatred.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
THEY CAUGHT UP with the village at the big bend in the Wind River, just above where it changed its name to the Big Horn. The people were moving to their usual winter camping place in a long line of pony drags, policed by the Foxes.
It had been surprisingly easy. Sam and Flat Dog loped their horses all that first night on the wide Indian trail in front of the Big Horns, switching mounts to let one always run unburdened. They went so long and hard, Sam had to let Coy ride behind him on Paladin. The coyote had learned to balance very well.