“This will hurt my friend.” Brave Pony nodded his head, gritting his teeth. He sprinkled gunpowder into both bloody red holes, then worked the tip of a finger in from each side, Three Knives adding powder as Eagle Talon packed the wounds. Brave Pony groaned through clenched lips.
“Bring a flint.”
“Here.” Pointed Lance reached into a small, beaded leather pouch that hung from his neck and handed the flint to Eagle Talon. Holding the flint close to the wounds, Eagle Talon struck the flint once, then again. A spark caught and an explosion of fire seemed to leap from both bloody apertures, diminishing to grey smoke and the acrid smell of exploded gun powder and burnt flesh. Brave Pony stiffened and bit into the meaty part below his thumb until it nearly bled.
“Now I will put the poultice on, and you’ll feel much better.” Eagle Talon applied the poultice lavishly, pushing into both sides of the wound. He sat back on his heels and sighed. Shaking his head, he cut a sleeve from the shoulder of his shirt, then cut it again, longitudinally. Turtle Shield and Three Knives held Brave Pony’s shoulder up so Eagle Talon could bind the two strips tightly around his friend’s midsection, over the poultice.
Brave Pony stifled a groan as they set him down. “I thought you said I would feel better.” They all laughed, and Brave Pony smiled. “I do feel better. Spirit will have to wait.”
Unable to make fast time, the sun was low in the sky when they topped a golden ridge. The rolling country undulated in waves of spring grass, as does a pond in the wind.
“There they are!” exclaimed Three Knives.
Eagle Talon nodded and took in the scene, searching for Walks with Moon’s graceful figure. Sixteen tatanka carcasses lay scattered across a wide valley, the nearest almost five or six arrow-flights from the furthest. Some were already just partial bones and remnants of flesh. Teams of women and older children worked on others, fleshing the great bloody hides, as others removed chunks and strips from the mountains of meat, cutting it carefully for storage, salting, and smoking. Others sloshed around in great piles of entrails, removed from the carcasses soon after death so that the meat would not spoil. The saving of hide, fat, and bone would come later. Camp dogs slunk around the edges, snatching whatever scraps they could.
Silhouetted on the higher hills all around the valley, braves stood guard over this ancient ritual—the difference between life and death for The People. Three Cougars pounded up the incline toward them, smiling. “We’ve done well. This was the second herd. We took fourteen in the first one and sixteen from this one. It was a great gathering of the brothers—probably thirty arrow-flights wide. He pointed out the mile-wide swath of trampled grass that receded up and down the hills, disappearing northwest into the twilight. His eyes fell to the Pawnee scalps and his face grew somber. “That is the good news. But there is other news.”
Three Knives cast a nervous glance at Eagle Talon. “What?”
“I was instructed to tell you that the Council wants to meet with you as soon as you arrive. You’re not to go to your lodges first.” He looked down at the ground, hesitating, and then up at them again. He leaned forward and in a voice barely more than a whisper, “It was Flying Arrow himself who gave the instruction.”
The five braves looked at one another. Eagle Talon swallowed. We shall get Brave Pony to his lodge. He is too weak to attend the Council meeting. Tell Flying Arrow we will be there immediately after.”
Three Cougars nodded, wheeled his horse, and with a shout, headed down the ridgelines toward—Eagle Talon supposed—where they had set up camp for the night—away from the valley of their dead brothers and the predators that would surely visit in the dark.
They took Brave Pony to the lodge of his family. Anxious not to keep the Council waiting, Eagle Talon promised they would tell him what happened the next sun. Eagle Talon emerged from the tipi, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, but his nerves would not settle. He looked up into a sky laden with stars, a bright half-moon perched on a distant rise, slightly higher than the one occupied by their encampment. One by one, his friends emerged from the tipi and joined him. The nervous tension ran like a strong wind between them. Eagle Talon breathed in deeply again, then exhaled, but his rapid heartbeat did not slow.
“Even deep breaths have no power to calm the nerves?” asked Pointed Lance.
“No,” Eagle Talon sighed and the four braves exchanged glances. The soft lunar light accentuated the tension in their faces. Three Cougars appeared out of the darkness. “The Council grows impatient.”
“Let’s go, then,” said Three Knives, his tone resigned.
He, too, would rather go anywhere else, thought Eagle Talon.
“Three Cougars, where has Flying Arrow set his lodge?”
Eagle Talon could see Three Cougars’ head move negatively. “No, it is worse than that. They’ve set up the Council lodge for this meeting.” The four braves exchanged looks. This is not good. The lodge of the Council is rarely set up when the tribe is on the move, except for the most serious of circumstances.
They followed Three Cougars slightly off the rim of the hill toward the middle of the encampment, a tipi bigger than all the others. The bright glow of the lodge fire shown through the smoke hole, its yellow-orange light rising above the main lodge pole only to be swallowed by the silver of the moon. I wish I could talk with Walks with Moon. I know she would have good advice for how to handle this.
They paused outside the flap to the Council lodge. There was not the usual murmur of voices. The four braves looked at each other, none of them wanting to be the first. Finally, Eagle Talon opened the flap and stepped in, followed by his friends. They stood respectfully, waiting for the invitation to sit in the circle that ringed the central fire. No such invitation was offered. Tracks on Rock caught Eagle Talon’s eye. His almost imperceptible shake of his head radiated disapproval before he dropped his eyes to the fire. Flying Arrow stared at them. Not an elder spoke. A minute went by, then another. The fix of Flying Arrow’s eyes was unwavering. Still, no words were uttered.
Eagle Talon had an overwhelming urge to shift his weight from one leg to the other. He could feel Three Knives to his left and Turtle Shield to his right, both struggling to remain still. Pointed Lance, the tallest of the four, peered over their shoulders, seemingly quite content to have the other three warriors in front of him. The silence extended for so long that when Flying Arrow did speak, it startled them. “Tell us what happened.”
Eagle Talon stepped forward and told the story in great detail— when they encountered the Pawnee war party, the days they tracked the Pawnee, the soldiers they avoided—and, finally, their surprise attack on the Pawnee in the midst of their rival’s battle with the white wagons.
Finishing the story, Eagle Talon paused, then stood as erect as he could. He held Flying Arrows eyes and said, “It is I who sent smoke to bring in the other scouts, and it is I who decided to attack the Pawnee. It is also I who talked Three Knives, Turtle Shield, Brave Pony, and Pointed Lance into joining me in such attack.”
At the last of the speech, though he kept his eyes fixed on those of Flying Arrow, he saw the head of Tracks on Rock rise, and thought he detected a slight nod of approval.
There was another long silence. “It is, on one hand, a brave thing you have done. The amount of coup you counted in one day is very impressive. However, you were given specific instructions. He raised his arm and made a sweeping gesture. We’re not a big village. We do not have many lodges. The safety of the village, our children,” his eyes narrowed and bored into Eagle Talon’s, “and our women, depends largely on knowing more than those who would do us harm, and gaining this knowledge sooner. Sometimes it is good to be the lone wolf, but even the wolf must know his place in the pack. When you made smoke and called in the other scouts, you left us without eyes in front of us.”
Flying Arrow paused. “Tell us, Eagle Talon, more about this white man, Roo-bin and his woman Ray-bec-ka. Why do you think they might be friends of The People?”
Eagle Talon related what he had seen the evening they had snuck close to the wagons. He told the Council about the whispers he had heard from the Great Spirit, Friend. Strength. Honor. To his amazement, the heads of virtually all the elders nodded empathetically.
“We have all had similar experiences, Eagle Talon. Though never with hairy-faced-ones. The future will tell you if you heard the whisper of Wakan Tanka, or merely the wind in the grass.” Flying Arrow paused, then gestured toward the door of the lodge with a nod of his head.
Eagle Talon and the other young warriors walked sun-wise around the fire, and ducked through the door, out into the night. They could hear the current of the somber discussion inside. Several of the elders wanted to strip them of their coup. Almost unheard of. Two of the elders thought nothing should be done since no harm had come to pass. They believed merely being called in front of the Council would make the point of the recklessness of their decisions. Tracks on Rock and Flying Arrow said little, their voices lowered, their words imperceptible.
The lodge fell silent. The flap opened. One by one, the elders filed by them, speaking no words, not even casting a single glance at any of the braves, as they disappeared into the silver darkness.
Eagle Talon turned to his warrior friends. “We are being shamed. We will be ignored at Council meetings. If we speak to the elders, they will not listen. Our words will be like stagnant air.” Thoughts pierced Eagle Talon, more painful than a knife. What if I am no longer entrusted with guarding The People? Now I must hunt the tatanka alone.
The braves dispersed. Eagle Talon began to turn toward his lodge, but a hand reached from the night and clasped his arm. It was Flying Arrow. “I wish to speak to you tomorrow of the white wagons and learn more of what you saw. Perhaps you can come up with further details of this Roo-bin with the white pistol.” And then he turned away, leaving Eagle Talon standing alone in the gloom between tipis.
Though no details of the braves’ exploits were known, news of their return had spread quickly. So had the ominous rumor of disapproval by the Council. Walks with Moon’s joy at the return of her husband was diminished, almost extinguished by her trepidation over the Council meeting. She had gathered at the lodge of Talks with Shadows, wife of Turtle Shield, and with Deer Track, wife of Pointed Lance.
“What you think the Council will decide?” asked Walks with Moon anxiously.
“They could be shunned,” said Deer Track, darkly joking.
Walks with Moon shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine a serious enough offense for shunning.”
Talks with Shadow was silent, staring intently into the fire. She looked up slowly, her eyes reflecting the flames, imparting a wild, almost unearthly look. Her eyes were enormous, and strangely fixed as if on some distant thing.
Walks with Moon and Deer Track glanced over their shoulders to see what Talks with Shadows stared at, but there were only the tipi walls and Turtle Shield’s backrest to be seen.
“I know what will happen,” the woman said, turning her eyes to the younger women.
Walks with Moon and Deer Track exchanged glances. Deer Track was biting her lip, trying not to giggle at yet another one of Talks with Shadow’s premonitions. The other women teased Talks with Shadow unmercifully about her incorrect forecasts, but she usually shrugged off the jests, making excuses. “I would have been right, if ….” Walks with Moon had the uneasy feeling, though, that today was somehow different.
“How does the baby in your belly grow, Walks with Moon?” she asked abruptly. “Do you feel good? Does he feel strong?”
Walks with Moon was taken aback by the questions. Completely out of place. What does this have to do with the Council? The words seemed to come more from the wild look in the woman’s eyes, than from her mouth.
“I feel wonderful, blessed by Spirit,” Walks with Moon answered. “I think the baby is happy, as are we. But boy or girl? We do not yet know.”
Talks with Shadows nodded. The fire flickered in her eyes again, her brown irises brightening, then fading. The whites of her eyes seemed to dance with an orange glow. When she spoke this time, it was almost in a monotone, like the voice of another.
“The men have brought shame upon themselves. It will be so for one moon.”
Walks with Moon and Deer Track exchanged startled looks, their mouths open. Talks with Shadows seemed oblivious to their reaction, her face almost wooden in appearance. Walks with Moon listened as the woman continued with her prophetic announcement.
“Eagle Talon has bonded with a hairy-faced-one whose woman reminds him of his love of you.” Her shoulders were stiff and square as she spoke. Her voice, still strange, descended to a strong whisper, “The future of The People is not bright.”
Walks with Moon returned Deer Track’s wondering look. Perhaps Talks with Shadows is tired or anxious about Turtle Shield, thought Walks with Moon, trying to understand the woman’s odd behavior. What did she mean The future of The People is not bright? Usually, her prophetic mutterings were lighthearted, her voice almost playful. Today, she spoke in the voice of a stranger.
The fire crackled, casting dark shapes on the hide walls that moved as the fire flared and ebbed.
“The hairy-faced-one and his woman will play a role in the wellbeing of your son,” she said, looking at the fire and then up at them again. Then Talks with Shadows seemed to relax, her face softening, as if she seemed not to remember the words she had just uttered, the flames no longer dancing in her eyes, and the normal cadence in her voice returning.
“We shall just have to wait and see what the Council decides, but I don’t think it will be that serious,” said Deer Tracks, doubt strong in her voice.
The flap of the tipi was shoved roughly open and Turtle Shield stepped in. One look at his expression, and Walks with Moon knew that the gathering of the Council had not gone well.
She could hear the anxiety in her voice when she asked, “What was their decision, Turtle Shield?”
“Your husband can tell you,” he said, glancing at her, then at his wife. “The news should come from Eagle Talon.”
He placed his shield, lance, and bow carefully against the wall of the tipi and sat heavily down against his backrest, legs crossed, his eyes fixed in a brooding stare on the lodge fire. Talks with Shadows sat down next to him, her hand on his knee.
“Thank you for opening your lodge to us,” Walks with Moon said, already at the door flap, thinking that perhaps Talks with Shadow needed a few nights of good rest.
The woman looked up. “I’m not tired,” she said.
How had she known what I was thinking? Walks with Moon and Deer Tracks exchanged glances again and then stepped into the growing darkness of the sinking moon, each running toward their lodges to hear the news. Along the way, Walks with Moon stopped to gather a few windblown twigs for the fire.
She arrived only moments before Eagle Talon, just enough time to grow the embers of the lodge fire to flames. The tipi flap opened and he stepped in. His face was dark and his eyes troubled. The smile faded from her lips.
“It did not go well?”
He did not answer, instead stowing his bow, shield, and lance, and then like Turtle Shield, sitting and staring morosely into the fire.
She knelt down behind him wrapping her arms around his neck and tenderly kissed his ear.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
She nestled her breasts into his back and, moving her shoulders, pressed one, then the other into the muscles below his shoulder blades. “Are you sure you have no hunger, husband?”
Eagle Talon sighed, bent his head down, and kissed her forearm where it circled him to the side of his jaw. “I am sure, Walks with Moon. I ruined that shirt you spent so much time on this winter.”
“Is that what is bothering you? I can make another. What happened to it?”
“No, that is not what distresses me…though I am very sorry,” he added hastily. “And it did help save Brave Pony’s life.”
> She took her arms from around his neck and began to knead the thick cords of muscles at the base of his neck. After a few minutes she could feel him relax. “Come to bed, Eagle Talon. I will hold you and rub you, and you can tell me the story.”
He craned his head around to look at her, their eyes met and he nodded.
Under the buffalo hides, he lay on his side facing away from her. Walks with Moon wrapped one creamy, upper inner thigh over the tense muscles of his outer leg, snuggling her hips and growing belly into his buttocks. Her hands worked the stiff muscles in his shoulders.
He reached one hand behind him, over his shoulder, and closed it over hers.
“I am sorry, too. I was not here to take a tatanka for us. And now I must hunt alone. We have been shamed.”
Walks with Moon froze and stopped her massage. Misunderstanding what had given her pause, Eagle Talon partially raised his head. “It’s all right. The season is young. We shall have meat, wife.”
“No, no, Eagle Talon. It is not the meat. Soaring Eagle killed three of our brothers…”
“Three!” Eagle Talon interrupted her and chuckled. “He is a great hunter.”
“…And he gave us one. It is just he and Antelope Fawn you know. They seem to be unable to have children, and he was very appreciative of how long you have been gone.”
“They are fine people. We shall have to give them a gift.”
“Husband…”
“Yes, Walks with Moon.”
“Tell me the story of where you went, what you saw…and,” she hesitated, aware of the racing of her heart, “who you met.”
He was silent for a moment. “We trailed the Pawnee, attacked them, I counted five coups. We evaded a small group of soldiers, but I shall tell you the details of all that and more later. The most memorable event was—please don’t think me crazy, wife—I met our spirit brother and sister…”
Maps of Fate Page 45