Calling Crow

by Paul Clayton

  Mateo and the old man approached and Calling Crow turned to face them.

  Mateo said, “I ask you again to come back to the island with us. I have some influence there. I will make sure you are allowed to live your life free.”

  Some of the Spanish sailors watched Calling Crow curiously. He stared into the distance as he thought. He could go back to try and find her. The Bishop was dead and she was free. But things could change on the island. Now he was close to Tumaqua and his long journey was nearing an end. As he stood on the rolling deck of the ship, with the Spanish watching him, he felt foolish and vulnerable. “No,” he said, “I will go back to my people.”

  Mateo smiled sadly. “Very well. I believe I can find that place where we met on the beach so long ago, but you will have to guide me to your village from there.”

  Calling Crow felt as if a trap were being set for him. He could not lead them to Tumaqua. “No,” he said. “Take me to that place where you found me and I will make my way from there.”

  Mateo smiled again. “I see that you still do not trust me. Very well. I shall take you as close as I can to where I found you.”

  ***

  Calling Crow did not wait for the little ship’s boat to touch the sandy bottom before he jumped out and pushed through the waist-deep water. He went into the forest and looked back at the ship. He could not make out the faces of the tiny figures along the rail. Calling Crow stayed out of sight among the trees until the next day when the ship sailed off. After it had disappeared, he went deeper into the forest and began walking north.

  For five days he walked carefully through lands he had no knowledge of. He kept to the thickest parts of the forest, following the game trails. As he walked he thought about what he would find when he reached Tumaqua. He knew that there would be a new Chief, but who? He was Chief, but they probably believed him long dead. What would happen? And Tiamai would be married. Despite his love for Juana, he could not help but wonder to whom. He did not like to think these thoughts, but they would not go away. On the sixth day, off to the west, he could see the land rise slightly and he knew where he was. He came to a wide rushing creek and waded out into the center. This was Beaver Creek, and it marked the southern boundary of his people’s territory. Crossing, he made a sleeping shelter for the night just up from the bank. He awoke refreshed before dawn and began walking again, anxious to be home. He wondered if the village would be changed. A bad thought came to him. Would it even be there? Perhaps the Destroyer had been there already? As the sun appeared above the trees, he suddenly caught the faint scent of wood smoke. Yes. It would be there. He increased his pace and his heart beat faster as he passed the secret hiding place where he and Tiamai had first laid together. Who had she married? The thought plagued him. And how did she look? He walked on and came to one of his people’s fields. It was planted with new corn that barely came up to his knees.

  He knelt to touch it and breathed in the smells of the recently-turned soil. An arrow landed in the mud just a few feet from him and three braves ran toward him. He got slowly to his feet, They were young and vaguely familiar to him, but he did not know their names. The biggest of the three stood before him. Thickly muscled, with a deep scar high on his cheek, he said in a demanding tone, “What are you doing here?”

  “I have come home,” said Calling Crow.

  The men laughed as they inspected Calling Crow’s strange breeches and tunic.

  “Home?” said the scarred man. “I think you must be lost or else you are crazy. This is not your home.”

  “Is that not the village of Tumaqua up ahead?” said Calling Crow. “Is it not home to the Turtle Clan? Does it not harbor the bones of the great Chief Caldo? Is it not home to the men called Sun Watcher, Birdfoot, and Runs Like Deer?”

  The men looked at him as if he were a ghost. “Who are you?” demanded the scarred man.

  Calling Crow suddenly realized who the young man was. “Could it really be you, Slim Boy?” he said. “There must have been many good harvests and much game, eh?”

  The other men laughed as the scarred man’s face darkened. “My name is no longer Slim Boy. It is Battle Face. Now I shall not ask you a third time. Who are you?”

  Calling Crow smiled. “I am Calling Crow. I left here almost four turnings of the skies ago to find the secret of the cloudboats.”

  “Aieyee!” said the smaller of the other two. “Now I remember. It is indeed him.” He stepped closer to Calling Crow. “Do you remember me? I am Big Feet.”

  Calling Crow smiled. “Yes,” he said, “I remember.” He looked down briefly at the man’s feet. “And now the rest of you has caught up.”

  Big Feet and the other man laughed.

  Battle Face’s eyes narrowed as he looked suspiciously at Calling Crow. “Are you sure it is him?” he said to the other two.

  “Yes. It is him,” said Big Feet. “Older, and very strange looking, but him just the same.”

  Chapter 49

  Calling Crow was happy to see Tumaqua again. It had not changed except for the addition of ten or so new huts. As he walked through the gate, people crowded around him. Old people and children pointed and laughed at his woolen tunic, reaching out to touch it. “It is Calling Crow,” someone shouted happily and the crowd grew even larger. When Calling Crow got to the chunkey yard, he saw a familiar figure walking up to him. Birdfoot was dressed in the black and white feathers of the shaman.

  Birdfoot warmly embraced him. “It is wonderful to see you again, my friend.”

  “Yes,” said Calling Crow, “my heart sings. I see that our old shaman has died.”

  Birdfoot nodded. “He chose me just after you left. He was gone from us the following winter.”

  “Did he have a good death?” said Calling Crow, remembering old Mennewah fondly.

  Birdfoot smiled. “Yes, with everyone we could fit into the chokafa singing for him.”

  Sun Watcher and five other braves ran into the chunkey yard. As they approached, Calling Crow saw that Sun Watcher was wearing the mantle of the Chief. He was taken aback by the sight, even though he’d suspected that the mantle would go to Sun Watcher. Birdfoot saw his surprise. “Sun Watcher became our Chief when we thought you had died. He has ruled wisely all this time.”

  Calling Crow nodded to Sun Watcher. “It is good to see you again, my friend. The Old Men have chosen wisely.”

  Sun Watcher seemed to grow taller at the compliment. “Thank you, Calling Crow. Much has happened since we were young men in this village. Tiamai is now my wife. She has given me two sons, the last one born only two moons ago.”

  Calling Crow felt a little tug at his heart. He was glad that Tiamai was not present. It would have hurt him to see her when he heard this news. “It is good,” he said. “Tell me, Sun Watcher, how is Runs Like Deer?”

  “What do you mean?”

  People crowded around Calling Crow, Sun Watcher, and the other braves.

  “Did he not come back?” said Calling Crow.

  “No. No one came back until you. What happened?”

  Sadness stabbed into Calling Crow’s heart like a lance. Perhaps Runs Like Deer had been captured by the Flatheads as he made his way back to Tumaqua. “Big Nose and I sent him back to bring all of you to help us.”

  Sun Watcher shook his head. “When no one came back, I and some other braves tried to track you, but we could find no trace. We all thought you dead, drowned and lying on the bottom of the sea. Even Birdfoot, who held out hope the longest, finally dreamed that you were down in the land of the dead.”

  Several of those close enough to hear the conversation laughed and Birdfoot shook his head in embarrassment.

  Calling Crow spoke. “I was taken far away by the Spanish and I despaired of ever getting back.”

  “Who are the Spanish?” shouted a man.

  “They are the people who sail the cloudboats out on the big water. They live far away on the other side of the big water.” The crowd began chattering, speculating about the st
range things they were hearing.

  Sun Watcher held his arms up for quiet.

  “How could they catch you?” a woman shouted out. “You and Sun Watcher were the fastest runners in the village!” “Yes,” someone else shouted. Again the crowd began talking all at once.

  Calling Crow looked around at the people. “The Spanish were riding horses when they captured Big Nose and me on the beach.”

  “Where is Big Nose?” asked Birdfoot.

  “Dead,” said Calling Crow.

  “Horses?” shouted an old man. “What are horses?”

  Before Calling Crow could answer, Sun Watcher turned to the crowd. “Let us give Calling Crow time to rest. He must be purified now that he has come back to us. And I am sure that he wants to see his Aunt Three Pearls.”

  As they withdrew, the men and women shouted out their gratitude that Calling Crow had returned home safe. As Birdfoot and Calling Crow walked in the direction of the chokafa, an old woman grabbed at Calling Crow’s woolen tunic, wondering aloud about it. “It is not a skin,” he explained to her, “it is cloth, woven in the same way you weave your bark blankets.”

  “Oh,” she said in wonder. “What is it woven of?”

  “The hair of a sheep.”

  “Sheep?” she said, her face compressing into a frown of confusion.

  “You will need many days and nights to tell us about all the things that you have seen,” said Birdfoot, laughing. They walked on. A smaller, determined crowd had followed them to the chokafa. Birdfoot dispersed them before they entered.

  Inside, two women sat before a small fire. They retired to the rear of the hut to give the two men privacy. Birdfoot took down the ceremonial calumet. As he was about to light it with a stick from the fire, he stopped and looked at Calling Crow, concern etching into his brow. “Calling Crow, you must take those garments off now that you are back.”

  As Calling Crow began removing the light-weight tunic and breeches, he wondered if he would miss them. The thought surprised him.

  Birdfoot called out to the woman at the far end of the hut. “Go get Calling Crow some proper garments.”

  The woman returned with a skin girdle, breechclout, and mantle, all of which she handed to Calling Crow while averting her eyes. After Calling Crow dressed, Birdfoot sang a prayer of thanks while he shook his prayer rattle. He blew the sacred smoke over Calling Crow while singing the song of purification. When he finished, light flashed into the hut as someone opened the skin covering. Three Pearls, still fat and pretty, with just a few more lines about her eyes, approached and knelt beside Calling Crow.

  “They told me and I could not wait for you to come to me,” she said, smiling.

  Calling Crow embraced her. “I am sorry about Runs Like Deer,” he said.

  A shadow eclipsed Three Pearls’ smile momentarily. “I missed you both very much. Now at least I have one of you back.”

  A young brave quickly entered the hut and whispered in Birdfoot’s ear. Birdfoot looked at Calling Crow. “Sun Watcher has called a meeting of the Council of Old Men for tonight. He wants you to tell them all about the strange things you saw before you tell the people. He is afraid you will frighten them.”

  Calling Crow nodded and turned back to Three Pearls. “I will come to your hut soon,” he said.

  Three Pearls smiled. “I will have a feast waiting.”

  ***

  Calling Crow frowned as he and Birdfoot walked to the chokafa. “You know, Birdfoot, Sun Watcher is right in not wanting me to frighten the people. But there is much to be concerned about. And I think that this concern is a good thing if it leads to the proper actions.”

  “What actions are you talking about?”

  “Preparations for war. We must prepare for the possibility of the Spanish coming here.” Calling Crow stopped and grabbed Birdfoot by the shoulder. “You see, the Destroyer of my dream is a Spanish. I am convinced of this.”

  Birdfoot looked at him gravely and then led him into the chokafa.

  Sun Watcher sat with the Chief’s mantle over his wide shoulders, cradling the sacred calumet in his arms. The Old Men sat behind and beside him, and selected braves behind the Old Men. Birdfoot indicated that Calling Crow should sit facing the others.

  Sun Watcher took a puff of the sacred tobacco smoke and offered the calumet to Calling Crow. Calling Crow took smoke deep into his lungs, held it, and exhaled a thin stream heavenward like a geyser. He smiled. “Every night I dreamed of this day. My heart beats faster than the wings of a sparrow.”

  The Old Men nodded and smiled at his words.

  Old Black Bear rose to speak. He nodded respectfully to Sun Watcher, then turned to Calling Crow. “You used to be our Chief and then you went away. And we picked a new Chief, a good Chief. Sun Watcher will continue to be our Chief. He has led us well. Still, you are a brave and good man. We have decided that you should be on our council.” Black Bear turned to look at the others and they nodded. He looked at Sun Watcher.

  “It is good,” said Sun Watcher.

  Black Bear smiled and sat down.

  As Calling Crow looked around at the men assembled before him, he was suddenly saddened by their vulnerability. Eight or ten Spanish on horses and a squad of Spanish on foot, all protected by their iron armor and armed with harquebuses and crossbows, could easily destroy the entire village. His peoples’ stone clubs and arrows would be no defense. If he was Chief he could lead them in the right direction, make them take the right precautions against what could come any day. Now his task was more difficult, because without the mantle of Chief and the power that came with it, he would have a difficult time convincing them of what was out there, and what they must do.

  Sun Watcher spoke. “Calling Crow, you talked of many things out in the chunkey yard that I wanted to know more about. Tell us about Big Nose. How did he die?”

  “He died after he was captured. He died from the Spanish disease.”

  The others looked at him intently and he went on.

  “It is a disease that the Spanish give to others. Some say the Spanish shoot it into people from afar with spirit arrows.” Calling Crow noticed the strained looks on the faces before him.

  “Tell us about these horses,” said Sun Watcher, “the creatures that the Spanish ride upon.”

  Calling Crow smiled at his old friend. “They are fine beasts. They are like dogs, only very large, and the Spanish ride upon their backs. When they are seated on their horses they can see very far and ride very fast, easily outrunning any man.”

  Calling Crow saw that Sun Watcher was troubled by his words, but he went on anyway. “Big Nose was knocked down by one of the Spanish on a horse. I was run down by one of them and then attacked by many Spanish on foot. They then took us on their cloudboats where Big Nose died from the Spanish disease. After that we went south and the Spanish captured many other people, an entire village.”

  Old Black Bear raised his hand patiently. “Calling Crow, how can they capture an entire village? How many of the Spanish were there?”

  “They were not that many in number, but they used their thunder sticks.” Calling Crow saw the questioning looks on their faces and went on.

  “These are long sticks that they point at people . They spit thunder and lightning, striking people dead in their tracks.” Calling Crow waited for a response or a question, and when none came he realized that, although they had all listened politely and nodded their heads, they had stopped believing what he was telling them. It was too crazy for their ears. He realized that if he had never left Tumaqua, and someone else was now telling him these very same things, he would not believe them either.

  “All that I have told you is true,” he said. “You must get the village ready in case the Spanish come here.”

  “We are not afraid of these things,” said Sun Watcher. The others voiced their agreement.

  “Of course,” said Calling Crow, “I know you are very brave. But the Spanish have very powerful medicine. Every Spanish carries wha
t they call a sword. It is a weapon like our own knives, but much longer and sharper, and very hard.”

  “That is of no consequence,” said one brave, “for we are allied with the Wolf Clan now. It was on their behalf that we fought the Flatheads. The Wolf Clan would help us if we asked them.”

  “Their help and even the help of the Flatheads would make no difference,” said Calling Crow, “because the swords of the Spanish are made of iron. Stone knives and clubs would be useless and we and the Wolf People and the Flatheads would all end up as Spanish slaves.”

  The Old Men began murmuring among themselves worriedly. Birdfoot looked at Calling Crow. “What is this iron? I have never heard of it before.”

  “They dig it up from the earth,” Calling Crow explained, and then they heat it up in a fire and beat it to shape it. I have seen this with my own eyes, and I think that we could do the same. I have seen what this iron looks like when they dig it up from the ground. And I think there may be some of it in the bogs at the source of the creek. I will go there tomorrow and see.”

  “Enough,” said Sun Watcher. “We do not need iron to fight these Spanish if they come here. I will hear no more talk of it.”

  Calling Crow felt his own anger growing. “Would you hear no more talk if there was a hungry bear in the next bush I was trying to warn you about?”

  Sun Watcher and the younger braves said nothing. Instead, the looks they fixed on Calling Crow were angry and dark.

  Birdfoot raised his arm. “Let us talk no more of this now. I will seek a vision to see if these Spanish are really a threat to us. But now we should let Calling Crow roam the village freely and renew old friendships.”