The Elk-Dog Heritage

by Don Coldsmith

  There still remained grave doubts as to what was afoot. Why were the young men dressed for a ceremonial dance, and with their cursed red paint on their faces?

  Outwardly, the Real-chief was calm as he methodically puffed smoke to the four winds, to the earth and sky, and handed the pipe to Black Beaver. That chief repeated the ritual, and the pipe moved on around the circle. Many Robes, receiving it back after each had performed the ceremony, knocked the dottle from the bowl and handed it to his pipe bearer. He cleared his throat to open the Big Council.

  “Hear me, my chiefs! The People have gathered for the Sun Dance. Let each chief speak for his band.”

  Black Beaver rose slowly and addressed the Council.

  “I am Black Beaver, chief of the Mountain band of the People. We have wintered well, and the hunting was good. We have seen no enemy.”

  The Mountain chiefs message was always brief and to the point, observed Heads Off. White Bear rose, made the customary speech, and noted that they had seen a traveling band of Head Splitters.

  “Their families were with them, as we had ours,” he continued, “so we had no fighting.”

  This attracted very little attention. Such meetings were commonplace. Next came the Elk-dog band. Heads Off stood.

  “I am Heads Off, of the Elk-dog band,” he began. “We wintered well, but game was scarce this greening time.” There was a mutter of discontent behind him. Perhaps, he thought, our plan was more obvious than we thought.

  “Some of our warriors have had skirmishes with the Head Splitters. We lost one young man.”

  He sat down again. Be damned, he thought at the rising mutter behind him, if I give you the satisfaction of telling about your kills. The commotion continued, and people began to turn to look. Heads Off turned also. Badger was rising to his feet.

  “My chief!” he practically shouted. “That is not all! We have struck the enemy. We have …”

  “Silence!” Few people present had ever heard Many Robes raise his voice in Council before. “Take your seat! When you are a chief you may speak in Council. Until that time you will be silent!”

  The stern visage and flinty stare of the Real-chief was not to be denied. By sheer force of will he took control of the situation as Badger faltered, became confused, and humbly sank to his seat.

  Heads Off was embarrassed for the young man, but exhilarated by the manner in which the Real-chief had handled the matter. His respect for old Many Robes continued to increase.

  The expression on the face of the Real-chief was now reverting to normal, stern but tolerant and benign. He turned expectantly to the Eastern band. Their chief rose quickly.

  “Yes, my chief. I am Small Ears of the Eastern Band.”

  Small Ears’ message continued, but the rest of the Council was anticlimax. The Bloods sat quietly, chastised by the strength of the Real-chief. The Council adjourned, and the People began to scatter to their lodges for the night.

  10

  The Bloods were disgruntled at their treatment in the Big Council. The People continued to ignore them, and the young dissidents reacted by being more active, loud, and obnoxious.

  Badger presented himself at the Sun Dance lodge on the first day of the dance, in his symbolic red paint, accompanied by his followers. For a moment it appeared that the keeper of the Sun Dance would prevent their entering. Still, one’s participation in the Sun Dance was a very private and personal thing. Each performed according to the dictates of his own conscience. There were some who even danced backward, or wore some strange article of decoration, perhaps to fulfill a secret vow.

  In the end, the sentry decided that there was nothing so unusual in the Bloods’ facial paint. They were allowed to enter and participate in the dance.

  It seemed, however, as the days passed, that Badger became more irritable. Apparently, his militant challenge to tribal authority could stand almost anything but the good-natured tolerance of the tribe. This had always been the way of the People. If one does no harm to the group, let him do as he wishes.

  So, through the entire Sun Dance, the Bloods seemed angry and frustrated that they could get no reaction of any sort from the People. They paraded pompously around the camp, noisy and insolent, attempting to create an incident, but were completely ignored.

  Perhaps this was why, on the morning after the last all-night session of the dance, Badger was looking for trouble. Irritably, he presented himself at White Buffalo’s lodge.

  “Uncle!” he called out. There was no trace of respect in his voice. “We wish a vision for the hunt.”

  The old man was tired. The rigors of the Sun Dance were a trying time, even for younger men. Sleepily, he rolled out of his robes, but not before Badger was calling out again and slapping the skin cover of the lodge. The medicine man held the doorflap aside and Badger stooped to enter.

  “We would hunt buffalo,” he demanded. “Give us a vision!”

  It was a command rather than a request.

  “My son, the tribe will be moving. Today is no time to start a hunt.”

  Badger’s eyes burned into the old man’s face, cruel and relentless. For the first time in many years, White Buffalo was physically afraid. And of one of his own band, he thought sadly.

  Reluctantly, he turned and prepared to perform the dance. Crow Woman readied the drum and the medicine man donned his buffalo robe. Not the sacred white cape, but an ordinary robe was used for this ceremony. The muffled rhythm of the drum set the cadence, and the medicine man began his shuffling, stamping dance. He pawed the ground like a massive herd bull, and swung his head and shoulders in imitation of the great beasts.

  White Buffalo was just warming to the challenge of the dance when his visitor rudely interrupted.

  “Enough, old man!” Badger injected. “Throw the stones!”

  Crow Woman, astonished at the effrontery of the youth, stopped the drumbeat and sat, openmouthed. No one had ever dared interrupt a ceremonial dance. The medicine man straightened slowly and stared hard at Badger.

  “No good will come of this.”

  “Throw the stones!” It was now a command, and the old man moved to comply, not quite understanding why he did so.

  The medicine man turned and unrolled a bundled skin to spread before them. Its smooth painted surface bore geometric designs which shone dully in the dim light of the lodge. He produced a pouch, heavily embroidered with quillwork, and shook the contents into his gnarled palm.

  With a dramatic gesture, he rolled the handful of small objects onto the surface of the spread skin. They scattered and bounced, settling to rest as he squatted to interpret the cast. Painted plum stones, small bits of bone, wood, and brightly colored pebbles settled in a pattern on the skin. White Buffalo studied the objects, muttering to himself, and occasionally poked at a stone with a knobby forefinger. Finally he looked up, directly at the waiting Badger.

  “My son, it is not good. I do not fully understand the cast, but danger and death are here!”

  “You lie, old man! Throw again!”

  White Buffalo shook his head.

  “I can make but one cast. Then the medicine is gone.” An idea suddenly occurred to him. “But, I can cast the black stones.”

  Seldom used, the black stones were reserved for special purposes. Five in number, they had been handed down through successions of medicine men of the People. No one, except the medicine man himself, had ever been allowed to examine the black stones closely, and for very good reason.

  The black stones were completely predictable in their forecast. Five plum stones had been painted black on one side, in a manner similar to the ordinary half-red gambling stones in common use. Their difference, aside from color, was subtle. The plum stones had been selected long ago, and painted by a skilled medicine man in the distant past. White Buffalo had once examined them closely, and determined their secret.

  The selected plum stones were slightly flattened on one side, a freak of growth not obvious to casual observation in the dim light o
f a medicine man’s lodge. The observer would be intent on looking for color, not shape. Would there be more stones showing the black-painted, or the natural yellow side when the cast was made? The medicine man already knew that the black sides would predominate. He could use the black stones to enforce any advice or vision he might wish. They were seldom used, and then very cautiously, but White Buffalo felt that this was the time.

  The clutter of objects on the medicine skin was gathered and returned to the pouch. Crow Woman ceremonially smoothed the skin for the coming ritual. White Buffalo turned, rummaged in his equipment, and produced a tiny pouch lavishly decorated with quills and paint. He handled it reverently, carefully. He must be cautious, for Badger was clever and observant.

  With slow and symbolic motions, he opened the sack and shook out the five small plum stones. He drew forth their cup, made from the tip of a buffalo horn, and placed the stones carefully in it. The polished horn gleamed black as he held it aloft and chanted the ritual phrases. Then, with a dramatic gesture, he swept his arm downward and over the skin, tumbling the stones across its surface.

  Badger watched, fascinated, as the black stones skittered and bounced, finally coming to rest. Four of the five showed the black surface, the other the natural yellow color.

  “Aiee, it is bad, as I have said,” intoned the pleased medicine man.

  “It is a trick!” Badger almost shouted. He reached quickly forward and scooped the scattered stones in his hand.

  White Buffalo, taken completely by surprise, could only sit numbly at the unexpected turn of events. The young man was shaking the black stones between his palms. How had he solved the secret so quickly?

  Badger cast the stones back onto the skin, and watched, fascinated, as they skittered, rolled, and came to rest. He stared at the result. This time all five showed the black surface. Anger began to mount in the young man’s face. In that moment, White Buffalo realized the truth. Badger had not solved the secret. He was only angry that the medicine of the stones had gone against him.

  With a swing of his arm, the insolent young man swept the stones from the medicine skin. They bounced and jumped around the lodge, one falling almost into the fire. In the moment of silence, one stone struck the tightly drawn skin of the lodge cover beside Crow Woman with a soft thunk. She absently picked it up and stared at it.

  “It is a trick of some sort! We go anyway!” Badger jumped to his feet and strode from the lodge.

  11

  Crow Woman and White Buffalo looked at each other in stunned silence for a few heartbeats. Then the old woman began to move around, clucking her tongue disapprovingly as she retrieved the black plum stones. The last one was elusive, but she finally found it, in the ashes near the fire.

  White Buffalo examined the objects briefly, and returned them to their pouch with the horn cup. He was disturbed. Obviously, the Blood Society intended to go on their hunt, regardless of the medicine man’s approval. It was a very awkward situation. The Elk-dog band should be preparing for departure. Instead, they must either wait for the Bloods to return, or, if need be, leave without them. Neither course was a good one. Once again, the youngsters had caused embarrassment to their band and their families.

  White Buffalo hurried over to the chiefs lodge, intending to inform him of the developments. He found Heads Off standing outside, watching the activity. Badger was riding among the lodges, calling to his followers and announcing the hunt.

  “I gave them bad omens, Heads Off. They go anyway.”

  Coyote joined them and the three watched the rising excitement of the young men as the group of mounted hunters grew.

  Coyote spoke. “We will leave tomorrow even if they have not returned?”

  Heads Off did not answer. He was still pondering that question in his own mind. Also, the old apprehension was growing as he watched the Bloods wheeling their horses and shouting to each other. This did not look like the start of a hunting trip. They should be calm and businesslike. Instead, they were working each other into a frenzy of excitement. There appeared to be no doubt about it. This was no hunting trip. This was a war party!

  Their numbers grew as they organized, and even from a distance the three could see that the Bloods were being joined by young men from other bands. Aiee, it appeared that there were now more mounted warriors than one has fingers and toes.

  A man on foot strode among the lodges and approached the horsemen. Heads Off recognized Sees Far, and in a moment saw the object of that warrior’s attention. The man angrily approached a rider that they now recognized as his errant son, and an argument ensued.

  It was too far away to hear the words of the argument, but the situation was plain. Sees Far was forbidding his son to go with the Bloods, and the boy was insisting on his right to do so. The argument was still at an impasse when Badger arrogantly rode up and entered the conversation. Sees Far turned angrily to the young man, and voices rose in argument.

  Heads Off realized the danger and sprinted forward. The adversaries were well over a hundred paces away, and before he had covered half the distance, the inevitable had happened. Sees Far, with a shout of anger, rushed at Badger’s horse. The animal shied away, and the young man swung a weapon, which fortunately missed its target. Sees Far snatched at the reins, and pulled the animal’s head around as Badger struck at him a second time.

  The older warrior dodged the blow, but grasped the wrist of his assailant, shaking the club loose from his grip. Sees Far was not a big man, but seemed suddenly to acquire superior strength as he gave a mighty heave and pulled Badger bodily from his horse. The young man landed heavily, but sprang up immediately and grappled with Sees Far, the two falling again to the ground. Struggling and kicking, the pair rolled almost under the trampling feet of the frightened horse.

  Heads Off, nearly winded from his run, was approaching as a cluster of people crowded forward to see the struggle. The rolling pair was obscured from his view for a moment, and he elbowed forward, pushing the horse aside.

  Badger was just rising, breathing heavily.

  “He would have killed me!” The voice was almost pleading.

  Heads Off looked at the still figure, face down in the dust. He knelt, and gently rolled Sees Far toward him. A trickle of blood from a gash in the upper belly puddled in the dust. The far-seeing eyes which had earned this warrior the respect of the tribe now gazed sightlessly at the sun.

  An angry mutter arose from the gathering crowd. Badger looked from one face to another, desperately seeking support, but meeting only enmity.

  “I had no choice! He attacked me!”

  “Sees Far was not armed,” a woman stated quietly, and the angry mutter spread.

  Coyote came puffing to the scene, squatting beside Heads Off to talk rapidly.

  “Heads Off, it is a matter for the Big Council. I have sent for the Real-chief.”

  The People were still numb with the shock of the thing. It was the worst of all taboos, that one of the People should kill another. Though violence and death were commonplace, there was this most absolute of laws. One does not kill a member of the tribe.

  Badger was still looking helplessly around the circle for nonexistent encouragement when the Real-chief arrived, flanked by two sub-chiefs of the Northern band. The crowd separated to allow them to approach. The keen old eyes of Many Robes took in the situation at a glance. The wife of Sees Far was now at his side, sobbing quietly. Her son, the cause of the episode, stood staring in shocked silence.

  “You, boy,” the Real-chief addressed him crisply. “You have much to answer for. You must be a great help to your mother now.”

  Many Robes turned to the hapless Badger. That young man started to speak, then thought better of it and stood silent under the scathing gaze of the Real-chief.

  “You will go to your lodge and stay there until the Big Council meets at dark. The men will come for you.”

  He turned and spoke more quietly to Heads Off.

  “Your warriors will bring him to th
e Council?”

  Heads Off nodded. He was heartsick that his, the Elk-dog band, should be the origin of such disgrace among his adopted people.

  The Real-chief turned and the crowd parted again for him. They began to disperse, animated conversations beginning in small groups.

  “Heads Off, there is much to do.” It was Coyote, at his elbow, bringing him back to reality.

  White Buffalo had arrived, and now attempted to explain the necessary steps. The keening wail of the Mourning Song rose from the family of Sees Far as the medicine man rapidly explained to his young chief.

  “It is very bad medicine, Heads Off, for this to happen at the Sun Dance. It may destroy all the good medicine for the season. We must quickly remove the dead man, so the evil deed will not taint the Sun Dance place.”

  Heads Off nodded. The body would be ceremonially buried on an elevated scaffold in the trees, but in an area removed from the Sun Dance lodge.

  After the remains were wrapped in robes and carried downstream nearly half a sun’s journey, the spot where the tragedy had taken place was ceremonially cleansed by White Buffalo. Most of the Elk-dog band accompanied the family to the site of the burial scaffold. Sees Far had been a respected warrior.

  By the time the band had carried out the required rituals and returned to the Sun Dance site, it was growing late. Sun Boy and his torch were slipping below earth’s rim. It was time for the convening of the Big Council.

  12

  “What will be done?” Heads Off asked his father-in-law as they approached the Big Council. Every man, woman and child in the entire tribe was present. None wished to miss the important decisions brought on by this tragic event.

  “I do not know, Heads Off. Such a thing has not happened in my lifetime.”