Spirit Pouch

by Vaterlaus, Stanford

  Four Bears looks at the items. "These are not weapons. These are for painting." He makes a bluish-purple line on his hand with the pen. "Does not paint good." He turns the ID card over and stares at the photograph. "You do not look so brave in the picture. Red Thunder says you do not need weapons. You fight with your hands better than Black Hawk does with a knife." He hands the items back to Ty.

  "Runs-Like-Deer. Give me your weapons."

  I pull out my pocket knife, fingernail clippers, wallet, the bumblebee taw, a comb and the spirit pouch, and hand them to Four Bears. The bumblebee taw and the comb he hands back. "These are not weapons," he says. He examines the pocket knife and eventually gets it to open. "This weapon is no good." He pulls his own knife from its sheath. "Knife must be fast. Knife must be ready. Bear kill you before knife is ready. Knife too small to skin buffalo." He hands the knife back to me and studies the fingernail clippers. "What does this weapon do?" he asks.

  "It trims fingernails," I say pointing to the nail on my finger. Four Bears looks like he is deep in thought. "I'll show you," I say. I take the clippers and cut one of my nails. Then I hand the clippers back. "I give this to you as a gift," I say.

  Four Bears accepts the gift and then opens my wallet. "This is your squaw?" he asks, pointing to the picture of Lyn.

  "No," I say. "Just a friend."

  He pulls two one-dollar bills from my wallet. That is all I own so I hope he gives them back. Besides, I think, It would not be very good for the time continuum to have bills from the future floating around in 1866.

  "White Man money," he says. "No good. Better to have a warm blanket in the winter than White Man money." He hands my wallet and money back to me which I shove back into my pocket.

  Four Bears opens the spirit pouch and peers inside. "Rock, feather, bean. These not weapons." He starts to hand it back to me, but Medicine Eagle speaks quickly in the Lakota language. Four Bears gives Medicine Eagle the pouch, then says, "You may stay with us for a short time. How long you stay depends upon tomorrow."

  "What happens tomorrow?" I blurt out.

  "Runs-Like-Deer, who is not brave, also is not patient," Four Bears says. I see Ty glare at me and I shut my mouth. "Tomorrow," Four Bears says, "you will run to the top of mountain. Ma-ta-loo-zah will also run. If you run like deer, you will stay. If not, you will leave." Four Bears speaks with Medicine Eagle briefly, then walks away.

  "Come with me," Medicine Eagle says. "I will show you the teepee where you will sleep and prepare for tomorrow."

  We walk past several teepees with small glowing fires nearby that smell of smoke. One woman in a dress made from animal skins looks up at us from her work as we pass, then resumes her work at the fire. The sun has set and I cannot see what she is doing, but I imagine that she is cooking something for the evening meal.

  Medicine Eagle motions toward a small teepee. "You will sleep here," he says, tying back the buffalo skin that covers the entrance. "There are skins to sleep on."

  I look inside. My eyes have adjusted to the blackness of the night so I can sort of make out a dark mound to one side which I imagine is the pile of skins. "Thank you," I say to Medicine Eagle.

  "When the sun rises in the morning the running will begin. Ma-ta-loo-zah has accepted the challenge. He is a good runner."

  "What does Ma-ta-loo-zah mean in my language?" I ask.

  Medicine Eagle reaches down and lifts my hand. Into it he pushes the spirit pouch. "Where did a young man who is not brave get a sacred spirit pouch?" he asks, looking at me through the darkness.

  "My mother gave it to me," I say reverently. "She got it from her ancestors. I know it is sacred. I know it brings blessings and power from …"

  " … from Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit," Ty interjects.

  "That is right, Runs-Like-Deer. I have no right to take it from you. I return it now. You must carry it with you when you run tomorrow. It will bring you blessings."

  "Thank you," I say.

  "Ma-ta-loo-zah means Fast Bear," he says. "Tonight Talutah, which means Scarlet in the tongue of White Man, will bring you food. She will return before dawn also with food. Be quick tomorrow, Runs-Like-Deer."

  Medicine Eagle walks away into the shadows of the teepees that dance as the nearby fires flicker and spit sparks and smoke. I step into the teepee and find the stack of skins. Ty helps me divide the stack into two and then I plunk myself down on top of one. The skins aren't particularly soft, but I am tired and it feels really good to be off my feet. I lie down and then roll up the edge of one for a pillow.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?" Ty asks quietly.

  "Yes, you are right," I say sheepishly. "We should pray and give thanks for our safety. It's just been a very long day and a lot of stuff happened earlier …"

  "Jared," Ty interrupts. "I just meant that you were forgetting that Talutah will be coming with food in a moment. That's all. But Prayer is a good thought, too."

  Just then the teepee flap parts and Talutah motions for us to come out of the teepee. I step out of the teepee. The night is dark with a slight breeze. Standing next to another teepee I see the shadowed outline of a Sioux warrior, arms folded, but watching us. Talutah has two wooden bowls filled with a brownish lumpy liquid, and hands one bowl to each of us, then backs slowly away.

  "Thank you," I say, knowing that she might not understand English, but hoping that she would know that we are grateful for the food. She disappears into the flickering shadows.

  We sit down and I offer a quiet prayer, thanking God for our safety, for the escape of William and Annie, and for the food. When I open my eyes after the prayer, they are full of tears.

  Ty looks at me. "What?"

  I take a deep breath. "It's just that this is the first time all day that I have had the chance to reflect on all that has happened. I guess I am just sad that they had to die. George, Henry, Grandma, Grandpa."

  "And Joseph," Ty adds.

  "And Joseph," I say. "I guess it all just hit me right now."

  "Yeah, I know what you mean. They were good people. I will miss them. But at least we helped William and Annie escape. That's a good thing."

  "Yeah. Fortunate for us," I agree. "He's our direct ancestor. Hey, Talutah didn't leave us a spoon. How …?" I look at Ty. He is drinking directly out of the bowl.

  "This is good," Ty says between slurps.

  Ty is right. The brown stuff in the bowl is like a stew. After sipping some of the liquid, I see chunks which I fish out with the help of a finger.

  "Buffalo," Ty guesses, looking at me. "And some type of potato."

  All I know is that I am hungry and the stew is delicious. We leave our bowls outside and retreat to our teepee. I curl up on my pile of skins and in minutes I feel the shutters of my mind softly close and I sink deep into the peaceful abyss of sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Will To Win

  Wednesday, July 25

  "This is the place," Coach Walker says with a twisted smile that implied that he knew something that we didn't. "Up and back. Piece of cake."

  "This is Tumamoc," I say with a little dread.

  "Yes it is," Coach Walker says. "Yes it is. Seven thousand people walk this hill every week. Only the best can run it."

  "My mom says it's five hundred feet up," says Jim. Jim is on the cross country team. He is thin, not an once of fat on his bones, but he is tough.

  "Your mom would be wrong," says Walker. "It's six hundred feet up and three miles round trip. When you come down off that hill and you tell me that you ran the whole way, I'll know you can defeat any cross country team in the city."

  If we are still alive, I think to myself. I don't know if I can make it. "I don't know if I can make it. Don't know …"

  "Hey, Jared," I hear someone say. "Jared, wake up."

  My eyes flicker open. It is dark outside, but I can see silvery moonlight filtering in through a hole in the top of the teepee. I can barely make out a human shape near me, pushing on my shoulder.

/>   "I'm awake," I squeak in a groggy voice. I'm awake already."

  "You were talking in your sleep," Ty says. "You sounded pretty upset."

  "Oh, yeah," I say, bits and pieces of the dream coming back. "We were … we were … going to run up Tumamoc."

  "Is that a bad thing?"

  "It is a tough thing. More than tough. It is grueling."

  "Really?"

  "I've run it twice now start to finish with no walking. It is the toughest workout that I've ever done. But I have done it." I hear voices in the Sioux camp and I check my watch. "Whew! I must have slept solid as a rock. It is four - forty five."

  "I figured it must be close to sun up," Ty says.

  As if on cue, Talutah arrives at the entrance to the teepee and motions for us to come out. She has more stew for us and some berries. She leaves a container of water, also. We both eat and then pull on our shoes.

  When we step out of the teepee a Sioux warrior steps out of the shadows and I wonder if he has been there the whole time. "You come," he says.

  Probably the only two words of English he knows, I think to myself. But then, that's two more words than I know in the Lakota language.

  He turns and begins to walk toward the edge of the village, and we follow him.

  Women surround small fires, cooking, mixing, preparing. As we pass by they stop and look for a moment, then turn back to their cooking.

  Ty elbows me and discreetly points with his finger toward a teepee not too far away. I follow his gaze and his finger. In the dim twilight of pre-dawn I see her. Elizabeth. She is busy cooking, and when the other women pause to look at us, Elizabeth looks the other way.

  "She doesn't see us," I whisper.

  "She doesn't want to see us," Ty says.

  Sometimes Ty is right. He is very smart. But this time he is not right. Who wouldn't want to be seen, and remain a prisoner? No one. I ignore Ty because we are approaching a group of Sioux warriors at the edge of the village. I spot a small teepee with a round top close by. The warriors seem to be watching it. The flap on the teepee opens for a moment and a lot of smoke and possibly steam floods out, then the door closes again. The Sioux Chief, in full headdress walks up to me.

  "The challenge will begin as soon as Fast Bear finishes the Rite of Purification, "

  [93] he says, pointing to the smoking teepee. "You, Runs-Like-Deer, will run to the top of the mountain."

  "Mountain?" I say. In my mind I picture Mt. Lemmon, over 9000 feet high. It could be done, but it would be a three day journey, and there would be no running. I didn't pack any food.

  Chief Four Bears points toward a small, but still somewhat daunting hill nearby. "This mountain," he says. "Fast Bear will run with you. You will each leave one possession at the top at the tree marked with a buffalo skin. The one to return first will receive honor. If you receive honor, you will keep the name Runs-Like-Deer, and may stay in our village." He pauses to look at the smoking teepee. "If you do not receive honor, you shall be known as Runs-Like-Dog-With-Three-Legs. Not brave, not fast and no honor. You will be banned from the village and hunted like we hunt all White Man."

  "What about Fast Bear?" Ty asks.

  "He is not the one claiming, or how do you say it? Bragging to run like deer. So be ready. Fast Bear will emerge soon." Chief Four Bears walks away toward the smoking teepee.

  "Ty," I say urgently. Take my wallet and my knife." I hand him all the things in my pockets except that I keep the picture of Lyn. "I will carry her to the top of the mountain."

  We both move toward the teepee to be ready to run. I see the flap of the teepee open and four men step out. One is Fast Bear. A murmur flows across the group of Sioux like a wave and ends in a hush. My mouth goes dry and I swallow hard to get it moist again.

  Chief Four Bears says something in Lakota and motions with his hand for the runners to begin. In a moment I am next to Fast Bear. He is coughing and wheezing, but then his lungs seem to clear and he is running hard and strong. I am right behind him as we almost sprint in the direction of the mountain.

  Fast Bear does not wear a shirt and his reddish-brown skin rolls with muscles that flex with every stride. He has a cloth headband, and a loin cloth fastened by a leather belt. Moccasins cover his feet and ankles. Tied to his belt is a red cloth that looks slick and shiny like silk. I wonder, What family was left dead on the prairie when he acquired that red silk?

  We both reach the bank of a small stream at the same time. Fast Bear leaps off the bank into the middle of the water, then sloshes across to the opposite bank. Not willing to risk spraining my ankle, I scramble down the bank and rapidly pick my way across, stepping carefully only on what looks like solid rocks. Fast Bear is up the opposite bank ahead of me, but not by much. The path narrows considerably into a game trail bordered by long grass on both sides. The trail curves to the left up ahead and the grass totally obscures the trail.

  I push up behind Fast Bear and he glances over his shoulder at me, then picks up his pace slightly. We are both breathing hard now. I can hear each breath in that Fast Bear takes, and each breath out. I am breathing hard, too, and I try to fill my lungs to capacity with every breath.

  My eyes are locked mostly on the trail. Brown dirt packed down by frequent use. Deer, probably, I think. Or bear, or wolves, or goats. Probably deer. I follow Fast Bear so closely that I get very short notice of the occasional rock protruding from the thin band of dirt that winds through the grass. Twice I stumble.

  Fast Bear runs in moccasins, I notice, which strike the ground almost noiselessly. Just a quiet thump, thump, thump of buffalo skin on dirt, while the hard plastic soles of my tennis shoes crunch against the sand on the trail, over and over again as we approach the mountain.

  I can feel the slope of the trail begin to rise and Fast Bear's pace slows just a tiny bit. But I don't have to feel the trail in my muscles to know it is ascending. I can see it ascend as we start to climb the side of the mountain. The valley we are leaving behind spreads out in a great green blanket below us.

  I trip over a rock and barely catch myself. Keep your eyes on the ground, I tell myself. No time for sight-seeing. More and more rocks are part of the trail now and it takes my full concentration to either land my foot directly on a rock or miss it completely. Halfway on could roll my ankle. That would not be good.

  Sweat soaks my shirt and the waistline of my pants. Streams of salty water trickle off my brow and over my eyelids, momentarily blurring my vision and stinging my eyes. Fast Bear is smart enough to wear a cloth band around his head, and that appears to be soaking wet with perspiration, also.

  I glance ahead and I am thrilled to see the top of the mountain so near. I know that distance on a trail can be deceiving, but nevertheless I look forward to going downhill soon. My leg muscles ache and beg for rest. They feel as though nearly all their energy is depleted and they may at any time refuse to obey. Lift up, move forward, drop downward and push. Then the other leg. Up, forward, down, push.

  My lungs ache, never feeling like they can quite suck in enough oxygen. Great volumes of air. In. Out. As fast as my chest and diaphragm muscles can expand and contract. I try not to think of the altitude. How high are we? How thin is the air? I don't want to know.

  The trail widens for a very short distance and I leap forward to get ahead of Fast Bear. My muscles only sort of leap and I am along side of Fast Bear only for a moment. He speeds up, and I fall in line behind him again. I feel the pace slow back to normal once the trail constricts back to a single path.

  I decide to challenge his lead again at my next opportunity. I know that in track and cross country, when you pass an opponent, you should pass him with confidence. That is, to keep up your passing speed for a short time after passing. This tends to send a message that not only do you have the energy and the will to pass, but that you have enough energy to spare that you can keep right on going and going. It is a mental game, and I decide that I am going to play this game. It is a good strategy, and if nothing else,
it will make Fast Bear run faster than what is comfortable for him. It will wear him down.

  Up ahead I see the trail widen again and this time I am ready. I pick up my pace and when I reach the wide spot I will my muscles to push me forward. For a split second I think they will not go faster, but then I am ahead of Fast Bear. I hear sand scratch on the ground and a short groan. I chance a quick look over my shoulder and Fast Bear is down on his hands and knees. He is holding his right ankle.

  I stop running. "Are you okay?" I ask between wheezing gasps of air. I do not expect him to answer, mostly because I do not expect him to speak English. I slowly retrace my steps. He's going to need help, I think to myself. It's a long way back to the village if you have a broken ankle. When I reach Fast Bear I squat down and slowly extend my hand to check his ankle. Certainly it would be sore or even have some swelling if it is damaged.

  My hand touches his ankle and Fast Bear lifts himself up onto his fingers and toes and jumps forward like a sprinter out of the starting blocks. Startled and shocked I fall backward and land sitting in the dirt as Fast Bear sprints up the trail.

  "Hey!" I yell, realizing I had been duped, and scramble onto my feet. I start running and I am angry. "That wasn't nice," I took a breath. "And it wasn't fair," I yell. I know he can understand my tone of voice. That has to be a universal language. I am angry at him and my anger fuels my muscles because in no time I am right behind him and ready.

  We are near the top of the mountain now and I see the trail widen again where it seems that a smaller trail may be joining the one we are on. I waste no time and I pretty much fly by him and once again gain the lead. With a smirk of satisfaction I glance over my shoulder just as the trail bends and twists behind a boulder.

  Fast Bear is standing, slumped over, with his hands on his knees. He is a short distance off the main trail, then I am behind the boulder and I can no longer see him.