“Come,” said the other, “let us eat some more!”
The two walked toward the council fire. Cabeza sheathed his knife and began to breathe more easily. He glanced around, but the girl was gone.
South Wind had slipped quietly away as soon as it became certain there would be no bloodshed. She saw the other man lead Lean Bull away toward the fire and a sudden possibility occurred to her. She hurried to the lodge, went around behind, and approached the horse tied there.
Lean Bull, like most men, kept a horse at his lodge, in case of emergencies. His other horses would be pastured with the main herd, but in this way one animal was always in readiness. It was usually one of Lean Bull’s best, but tonight she had noticed that the horse behind the lodge was very special. It was his favorite buffalo runner, a massive spotted stallion. More importantly for her purposes, it was a horse that had never been beaten in a race. If she could get even a short head start, she could not be overtaken.
The horse spoke softly as she untied and led him a few steps away. Swiftly, she used the tether to knot a circle of rawhide around the lower jaw. Every child of the People learned to do this. It was strong medicine, copied after the shiny metal elk-dog medicine brought by Heads Off to the People. Its circle gave control of elk-dogs to the user.
“Where are you going?” the sharp question cut through the shadows.
The girl had been ready to swing up and, for an instant, thought of doing just that. She could ride down the woman in the shadows and keep running. But a better way suggested itself. This was Elk Woman, one of Lean Bull’s older wives. She had been kinder than some to the captive and the girl hated to hurt her.
South Wind led the horse toward the figure by the lodge. She carefully turned her face so that the moon illuminated more clearly the puffy welts along her cheek and the swelling of the eye. She sobbed a little.
“Lean Bull hit me, mother! I forgot to water his horse.”
Before the woman had time to sort out fact from falsehood, the girl had to act. Boldly, she brushed past, leading the animal toward the stream. Hopefully, it would take the slow-thinking woman a little time to realize that watering Lean Bull’s horse was not one of the captive’s duties.
Out of sight of the lodge, South Wind swung gracefully to the horse’s back and held him at a walk until they reached the stream.
She let him drink only a little, then walked him quietly up the bank on the far side. The stallion was eager to run, but she held him in until they passed the crest of the hill. Then she put heels to his ribs and settled into a steady lope, guiding her direction by the Real-star in the north.
Now, if she could only reach her people in time to bring help.
15
South Wind let the horse have his head as they wound their way up a long slope to the crest of the ridge. It was almost full daylight. In a few moments, Sun Boy would thrust his torch over the rim of the earth and day would begin.
This would be a good time to stop and let the horse rest and graze. Through the night, there had been no sound of pursuit, but that meant little. Most important was the question of how long it had taken Elk Woman to realize what had happened. When had the woman become certain that the girl was not coming back with the horse? And after that, how long until she mustered enough courage to give the alarm?
South Wind had taken another precaution. Her initial direction of travel had been due north. Then, when opportunity offered, she had walked the horse across a gravelly bend of a stream. They followed the stream’s course for a while, stepping in the water to leave no tracks. Another rocky riffle gave opportunity to leave the watercourse and the girl directed their course more northeasterly. She had a fair idea of the general area where the People would be camped. If she could only find them!
The horse stepped the last few paces and emerged on the flat, level hilltop. South Wind took a quick look around and saw nothing alarming. She swung down stiffly, walked a few steps, and then stood, letting the horse graze while she watched the back trail.
She could see for a long distance in the crisp morning air. The rolling prairie, smooth and light green in color, was dotted with scattered bands of buffalo, elk, and antelope. The courses of several small streams were marked by slashes of darker green. Soft plumes of mist arose along the watercourses. The prairie was coming awake. Birds sang a spectacular morning song in honor of Sun Boy.
The total picture was one of such peace and security that the tired girl was lulled into complacence. She did not even hear the warrior emerge from a fringe of sumac behind her. Her first inkling of trouble was a surprised snort from the stallion. Before she had time to turn, there was a sudden rush and she was pinioned from behind.
South Wind had not come this far to be caught so easily. She had no weapon, but this would not prevent a fight. In a sudden flurry, she loosed a series of blows. A jab in the ribs with an elbow, a kick here, a blow there, a knee in the groin. The two rolled on the ground, the girl continuing to claw, bite, and jab. She loosed a stream of invectives at her opponent, including some very uncomplimentary remarks about his maternal ancestry.
Suddenly, his grasp relaxed and, in a moment, the man was laughing.
“Stop! Stop!” The plea was in her own language. “South Wind? Is it you?”
Dumbfounded, the girl stopped her struggle long enough to take a good look at her assailant.
“Long Elk! What are you doing here?”
How fortunate, she was thinking. Long Elk, one of the respected Elk-dog Society, a son of Coyote, was a brother-in-law of Chief Heads Off. Without waiting for an answer, she hurried on.
“We must hurry and bring the warriors. The Head Splitters are ready to kill the people from the tribe of Heads Off.”
Long Elk was still rubbing his bruised anatomy. Blood oozed slowly from a deep scratch on his cheek.
“I know. Aiee, you have sharp knees and elbows. How did they ever catch you?”
“Long Elk, listen to me. There are Hair-faces in the Head Splitter camp. They look for Heads Off. I think the old man is our chief’s father.”
“We know, little one. That is why I am here. We watch. We do not wish our chief to go back to his tribe.”
“But what does Heads Off say?”
“He does not know. We are afraid he will leave us.”
The girl was furious. “You have not even told him that his people are here? Then how can we go and help them?”
Long Elk shrugged. “It is no concern of ours. Let the Head Splitters kill the Hair-faces. Then there is no problem.”
He thought for a moment that the girl would attack him again.
“You would let the enemy kill our chief’s father and never tell him? You are a society of cowards, not warriors!”
“Perhaps we could talk to Coyote and White Buffalo. But first, we must attend to that.” He pointed far across the prairie, where a file of warriors were crawling over the crest of a distant ridge like so many ants.
“Get your horse.”
The girl was quickly on the horse and Long Elk returned with his own mount, previously hidden in the sumac brush. He unwound the thong from the animal’s nose, which had prevented its calling out to the other horse.
“Did you steal the best horse they had?” he asked admiringly.
“I hope so! Which way?”
Long Elk led the way across the flat top of the hill and into the broken rock on the other slope.
“We will use the buffalo to cover our tracks.” He pointed to a distant herd.
The girl nodded and fell in beside him as they reached better footing.
“Long Elk,” she insisted again. “They plan to kill them at the night camp—tonight!”
The warrior nodded. “I see. We will talk to Coyote. Now we must go.”
The two had threaded their way half through the scattered herd before their pursuers topped the rise. The great shaggy beasts moved lazily aside or merely raised massive heads to stare. They continued their deliberate course, knowi
ng that sudden movement might urge the animals into a running frenzy.
The distance was so great that it was questionable whether the pursuers ever actually saw them. The riders bent low and mingled with the buffalo. When they at least reached the far side of the herd, Long Elk untied his robe from behind him on his saddle pad. He selected a yearling bull and rode straight toward it at a charge, flapping the robe wildly. The startled animal whirled, crashed into a grazing cow, and the two galloped wildly into the herd. Other animals began to run and, in the space of a few heartbeats, the entire herd was shaking the earth with the thunder of a thousand hooves.
Long Elk led the way to a low hillock for better visibility. They could look back over their recent path for any pursuit. Through the thin mist of dust rising from the buffalo herd, they could see the tiny specks of the distant riders. The herd was now heading precisely in their direction. For a few moments, the Head Splitters milled uncertainly, then turned to retreat.
The two young People sat on their horses and watched, as the entire enemy party broke and ran before the onslaught of the herd. Their last glimpse before the cloud of rising dust obscured their vision was that of scurrying warriors retreating up the slope.
Long Elk leaned back and wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Aiee,” he chortled, “it was better than I planned!”
South Wind agreed, but was impatient to be on the way. She kneed her horse forward.
“In a moment, little one,” he called to her.
He looked around the earth’s rim, glanced at Sun Boy, and then pointed to a clump of trees on the horizon.
“That way,” he said. “Now we ride!”
He struck out at a long lope and South Wind was hard put to match his pace.
16
The two riders made excellent time. Both were well mounted and Long Elk knew the route exactly, so there was little delay.
At the first rest stop, they chewed dried pemmican from Long Elk’s pouch while the horses grazed hungrily. The warrior examined both animals carefully. Much depended on their condition. Both appeared in top shape, ready for the all-important mission.
Long Elk suggested, however, that they exchange mounts. He was a big man and the stamina of Lean Bull’s buffalo runner, best of the enemy’s herds, might be needed before the night was over. His own horse, slightly smaller, could still easily carry the girl’s lighter weight.
Regretfully, South Wind gave up the stallion. She had never ridden so fine an animal. She realized, however, that Long Elk’s logic was correct.
“Remember,” she admonished, “he is still mine! I stole him!”
Long Elk laughed and nodded, swinging up in one lithe motion to continue travel.
By pushing to the limit of the animals’ endurance, they were able to continue travel through the night. It was nearing dawn when Long Elk pointed ahead. Almost at the same moment, the girl’s nostrils caught a stray puff of night breeze which carried the unmistakable odor of the village ahead.
South Wind would have ridden in, shouting to raise the sleeping People, but Long Elk was very firm.
“No! You must wait here with the horses! I will go and bring the medicine man.”
The girl looked for a moment as if she would break and run for the camp, but Long Elk saw her intent.
“South Wind, it is very important.” He spoke gently but firmly. “You must stay here in the trees. I will tie you if I must, but I would rather not. I will return as soon as I can. Give me your word that you will stay here!”
Reluctantly, she nodded.
It seemed a long time before she heard him returning, bringing two others. In the gray of dawn, she recognized White Buffalo and Coyote, the latter sleepily rubbing his eyes.
“Now, little one, tell them what you have told me.”
South Wind quickly sketched in her story, skipping part of the description of her own emotional involvement. The older men listened attentively, punctuating her narrative with an occasional exclamation of surprise.
“So,” asked Coyote as she finished and paused for breath, “you think the old hair-face is the father of our chief?”
The girl nodded vehemently.
“Why do you think so?” White Buffalo spoke probingly. “How could you tell? It is said that the Hair-faces all look alike!”
“That is true, uncle. Still, he carries himself much like Heads Off and sits well on his elk-dog.”
The men shook their heads in indecision. South Wind’s temper began to flare.
“You would sit here and wonder such things while our enemy may be killing the people of our chief’s tribe?”
Her voice was becoming high and shrill with emotion. Still, it had apparently not occurred to the others how deep a personal involvement the girl might have.
“The Head Splitters were to attack them last night. I was able to warn them.” She was very close to tears.
“Then,” observed Long Elk in a practical tone, “our problem may be already over!”
“True,” shrugged White Buffalo. “It is no matter, either way.”
Coyote had been thinking deeply.
“My friends,” he mused at last, “I think we have made a mistake.”
He turned to the old medicine man.
“Uncle, when you and I asked Heads Off to lead the People, we promised to help him, because he did not know our ways. Now, I think we have not helped him in this. We were so afraid of losing our chief that we have done him wrong.”
The others sat, silent, knowing that he spoke truth.
“How can a chief lead,” he continued, “if his people conceal from him as we have done? This matter needs the decision of a chief. It is not for us to decide.”
It was a long and serious speech for the usually quick and jovial Coyote. Everyone was still for a moment and finally White Buffalo spoke sadly, to no one in particular.
“Coyote is right.”
“Then what is to be done?” Long Elk asked.
Coyote heaved a deep sigh.
“Someone must tell him.”
South Wind was by now completely frustrated at the course of the discussion.
“I will tell him!” she almost shouted at them, turning to her horse.
“Wait, little one,” Coyote spoke sadly. “We will all go.”
The strangely assorted little group was seen by only a few early risers as they threaded their way among the lodges. Heads Off was just emerging sleepily from his lodge when they arrived there. He rapidly came fully awake at the seriousness of their approach.
“Ah-koh,” he greeted, waiting for someone to speak.
“Tell him, daughter.” It was White Buffalo who opened the exchanged.
Rapidly, South Wind told her story. The chief listened intently, nodding occasionally. When she reached the point of her encounter with Long Elk, he stopped her, furiously turning on the young warrior.
“You knew of this? Why was I not told?”
“My chief,” White Buffalo intervened, “we were afraid that if people of your own tribe came, you would go away with them.”
Heads Off looked quickly from one to the other.
“You all knew? And I was not told?” The accusatory question was thrust directly at Coyote.
Coyote nodded.
“It is as White Buffalo said.”
“You did not trust me to do what is best for the People?”
No one answered and, for a long moment, they were left to wonder how Heads Off would react next. At their hurt and dejected expressions, however, the young chief’s mood seemed to soften.
“No matter now.” He turned to Long Elk. “Spread the word. A council, as soon as we can gather.”
Heads Off turned on his heel and strode purposefully toward the council ring.
17
A council in the early morning was an almost unheard of thing among the People. Word spread rapidly and people hurried to assemble. It had to be a matter of extreme importance to initiate such a council. There was hardly anyo
ne who stayed away, though at most councils many were too bored to attend.
The council opened quickly. South Wind was the heroine of the hour, having just escaped several moons of captivity by the enemy. Her story was improving with retelling and she made a dramatic presentation, ending with a plea to help the Hair-faces. Many hearts were moved.
“There are many here who knew of these Hair-faces.”
Heads Off glanced around the circle at the members of the Elk-dog Society. Some hung their heads, expecting a reprimand, but the chief continued.
“You have had time to consider the matter. Tell us your thoughts.”
Hesitantly at first, then more freely, discussion began to flow around the circle.
Soon three distinct attitudes became apparent. One strong faction was willing to let well enough alone. If the Hair-faces and the enemy Head Splitters destroyed each other, so much the better. That would remove two threats.
Almost at opposites, but with similar motives, were the more militant warriors of the tribe. These were primarily members of the Blood Society. They wished to fight on the side of anyone who would fight Head Splitters, the traditional enemy.
The third faction were those who strongly felt that the Hair-faces should be helped, if only because they were of the tribe of Heads Off. This group grew rapidly in strength, urged on by South Wind. The girl was very persuasive and very vocal. By this time, she felt certain that the old man who led the Hair-faces was the father of Heads Off. And it made little difference, she argued. If he were not the chief’s father, he might have been. They should help the Hair-faces, just as they would help one of the other bands of the People in similar circumstances. It was a matter of blood, of common heritage.
Heads Off attempted to stay out of the discussion to form an objective opinion. Someone asked if this could be his father and he had to admit that he did not know. It hardly seemed likely, but was not impossible. Even as he said it, the young chief had a strange feeling of detachment, as if he were speaking of someone else. His life as Juan Garcia seemed worlds away. He had become thoroughly one of the People. Yet there was a gnawing doubt, an unresolved question in the back of his mind. Could this actually be his father, come to search for him? Even at the time, his foremost thoughts were of what effect this might have on his adopted people. He thought of his family, his friends in the tribe. How would they be affected by contact with the Spanish, whether it was his father or not?
Follow the Wind Page 7