A large party moved out to the abandoned enemy camp for salvage, with a few mounted warriors providing security. Another group of the Elk-dog warriors scattered over the prairie, gathering all possible horses. Some animals had been abandoned, others had escaped from the Head Splitters in the confusion, and still others had become riderless when their warriors were unseated in battle. Several were found still wearing skin saddle pads and trailing broken reins. All these animals were gathered and herded into the protected meadow next to the camp, where young men maintained constant watch to prevent strays.
Shortly after the overhead portion of Sun Boy’s journey, all the captured horses were herded together, and the People assembled. Coyote had made suggestions in private to his son-in-law.
“Each family will choose an elk-dog until all are gone,” Heads Off announced. “Those who have none come first.”
One family at a time, the People moved forward, looked over the available animals, and made their choices. As soon as everyone had at least one animal, the sequence began again, until each horse was the property of someone.
The crowd scattered, some to try out their new acquisitions, some to barter, but many simply to prepare for the move. It would be difficult to assemble and pack each family’s belongings by the next sunrise, but it was absolutely necessary.
Already it was well into the Moon of Growing. The Elk-dog band would arrive late for the Sun Dance. It would, in fact, be necessary to send a messenger to announce their impending arrival, but that could come later, when the band was nearer their destination. It would take many suns to reach the Salt River, the appointed site for the Sun Dance.
Closer at hand, they must pause in travel to join the wives and families of the Blood Society, now two suns away. The Growers with whom they were camped lived almost in the line of march, and it would be little trouble to detour in that direction.
Heads Off had considered for a moment sending the Bloods to bring their families to join the band as they traveled. He rejected that plan. It was too risky to divide his force again. The Head Splitters, smarting from defeat, would be unpredictable and dangerous.
The People were moving next morning before full daylight, packing and stowing goods in their rawhide carriers. There were enough elk-dogs to carry the depleted possessions of the band, and to drag all the extra lodge poles salvaged from the enemy. Since most of the range of the People was nearly devoid of timber, good lodge poles could be prized possessions. They could be kept until enough skins for new lodge covers were available.
Heads Off rode to the rim of the hill to watch the caravan move out. In the lead were Long Elk and Red Dog, followed by the first of the family units, pulling their lodge cover on a pole-drag. It was a perfectly orderly exit, leaving behind the usual debris of a campsite. It appeared, however, that there was somewhat less remaining trash than usual. The People were in no position to throw away a pair of worn-out moccasins or a tattered garment. This year they would be worn.
He looked across the tops of the oaks in the woods below him, and at the pleasantly sparkling stream. How close this place had come to being the final campsite for them all. He had never expected to watch again the straggling column move across the prairie to their next camp.
This would be a place important in the history of the People. Already he had heard the site called “Bloods’ River” by someone, in recognition of the amazing charge that had turned certain defeat into victory.
White Buffalo was already planning the pictograph for the Story Skins, he had told the chief. It would show horses impaling themselves on a barrier of spears, and Blood warriors charging from the hill to strike the enemy. It would be a magnificent thing to depict. This would be known in the future, the medicine man said, as “the year we ate elk-dogs.”
And that, Heads Off reminded himself, would be considerably better than “the year the Elk-dog band was wiped out.”
He lifted the reins and touched the mare gently forward to rejoin the band.
39
Three of the Bloods had ridden ahead to carry the news to the families at the Growers’ village. It was found that they had already heard the news of the battle. The prairie grapevine was swift.
A small band of retreating Head Splitters had stopped to trade for supplies, and had told the story to the Growers. They believed that they had been attacked by the entire tribe of the People, at least by several bands. They recounted the charge from the hill, and that from the camp, and stated that they had been forced to retreat because they were outnumbered.
The Growers were noncommittal. They traded with all other tribes, and their somewhat precarious existence depended on the goodwill of all the hunting groups. Some black glances were thrown toward the families of the Bloods by the Head Splitters, but no overt action was taken. By tradition, one must not attack an enemy or his family or possessions while they are guests of a friendly tribe. To do so would be the worst sort of an affront to their hosts, the Growers. The Bloods’ families were quite safe.
Their presence, however, did result in the early departure of the Head Splitters. They had no desire to be in the area when the People came back for their families.
The wives of the Bloods, meanwhile, were almost frantic with worry. They knew there would surely have been casualties. Which of them would have lost a husband or brother? They could only wait, and try to keep busy until they received word. They gathered in groups of three or four, and in tense voices talked about almost anything else to distract them.
The circumstances of the men’s departure had been rather unsettling. There had been arguing and dissension. Many of the Bloods had long since realized what most of the wives already knew. To leave the tribe to follow Badger had been a very foolish thing. It was pure good fortune that the little band had not encountered the enemy and been annihilated.
They had temporarily camped to trade with the village of Growers when rumors began to trickle in telling of a coming battle. The Elk-dog band of the People, it was said, were under attack by the Head Splitters, and were about to be overrun.
Most of the Bloods were eager to join the fight, but their leader dissented. Badger, still smarting from the humiliation of the Big Council, smoldered with resentment. He refused to consider such a move, pointing out that the Bloods were no longer a part of the People. If Heads Off and his band were in trouble, so be it. That was the problem of Heads Off, not of the Bloods.
Perhaps it was Badger’s repeated references to the young hair-faced chief that began to turn the tide of opinion. All the young warriors present had been taught by Heads Off, and respected his elk-dog medicine. He had been hard, but fair, and none could hold any animosity toward him as their teacher.
When Red Dog finally announced that he was going, nearly every warrior joined him. Badger ranted and swore, at first forbidding anyone to go. Then, seeing he could not prevent it, he eventually joined the war party, all the while advising, complaining, and threatening.
That was the situation when the women had last seen them. It had been apparent that Badger’s leadership was slipping, and that an uneasy feeling permeated the Bloods that perhaps their leader’s position had not been logical from the first. There were certainly many who deplored the killing of Sees Far, even though it may have been justified.
So, the waiting women at the village of the Growers had many unanswered questions. They did not know whether their men had taken part in the battle. They were forced to assume so because of the Head Splitters’ description of great numbers, but how many of them had participated? Had the band split yet again?
With great relief they saw three of their warriors ride in the following evening.
“Badger and Heron are dead,” Red Dog told the waiting women. “The rest will be here tomorrow.”
The wife of Badger now began the Mourning Song, joined in sympathy by some of the other women. Heron, a lanky youth from the Mountain band, had had no relatives among the Bloods.
“Are there wounded?” a
girl asked timidly.
Red Dog nodded. “Yes, but not badly.” Quickly he recounted the story.
“Aiee,” exclaimed a pregnant young woman. “Our men are with the Elk-dog band? Are we able to return to the People?”
“We do not know,” answered Red Dog seriously. “The Elk-dog band has made us welcome, but it must come before the Big Council.”
In the minds of most, this seemed a more important concern than the loss of their leader. Badger had become so irrational at times that there were those who privately felt a great sense of relief at his demise.
“Then we will go the Sun Dance?” someone was asking.
Red Dog nodded. “We must be ready to move. The Elk-dog band will be here tomorrow.”
The group scattered to begin preparations for the journey. The prospect was a happy one. A chance to see friends and relatives again, even temporarily, was a great lift to the spirit.
Red Dog made his way to his own lodge, where he and his young wife talked at great length. He was excited and optimistic. He was somewhat uneasy about the Big Council, but Red Dog had a better feeling than at any time since they left the Sun Dance last year.
40
The women of the Bloods welcomed their relatives of the Elk-dog band next evening with a feast that would be long remembered. Their food was in good supply, and they had just been trading with the Growers. Cooking had proceeded through the day, even while the preparations to depart continued.
The reunion, feast, and dance celebration became so exuberant that the Growers shook their heads in despair at the proceedings. Anxious mothers of the village cautioned their children against contact with the strange visitors and their well-known excesses.
This bothered the People not at all. There was a sense of reunion and homecoming, both on the part of the Bloods and that of the main Elk-dog band. Forgotten for the moment, in the happiness of the day, was the fact that the Big Council might easily refuse to lift the banishment. With their characteristic live-for-today philosophy, the People seemed unconcerned.
But Heads Off was concerned, increasingly so in the coming days as they traveled toward the Salt River. He sought out Coyote for advice and the two walked together, a little apart from the main column.
“What will the Big Council do?”
Coyote shrugged. “It will matter much what the Real-chief says. Most of the chiefs will vote with him.”
“What do you think Many Robes will say?”
“I do not know, Heads Off. Many Robes was very angry over the death of Sees Far. But that was mainly against Badger.”
The two walked in silence for a long time. An orange-winged grasshopper clacked into flight in front of them and fluttered to a new resting place several paces ahead. As the insect folded its bright wings and melted again into its dusty gray invisibility, Coyote spoke again.
“Maybe you should ask him.”
“You mean, before the Big Council?”
Coyote nodded. “Before we get there, maybe. You could go on ahead.”
The idea seemed good. They discussed it at greater length, and made some tentative plans. A few suns before their arrival, Heads Off and one or two others would ride ahead. This would serve both to announce their coming and to allow time to consult the Real-chief.
Heads Off would have chosen Coyote and Red Dog to go with him, but the little man dissuaded him.
“No, Heads Off. I do not wish to shake my bones on an elk-dog. You will wish to travel fast and hard. My elk-dog medicine is not as strong as yours.” He rubbed his rump ruefully, indicating that he considered the strength of his anatomy as well as that of his medicine.
They talked long of Red Dog. He would make a good impression on the Real-chief, would undoubtedly strengthen their position, but it was risky. Would his presence seem too presumptive? It would never do to alienate Many Robes even before he had time to consider the matter.
In the end it was decided not to allow any of the Bloods near the Sun Dance encampment until after Heads Off had talked with the Real-chief. Long Elk and Standing Bird would accompany Heads Off. After the interview, if it appeared that there was a great deal of animosity toward the Bloods, one of the young men could ride back to carry the message. Then the Bloods could decide whether to come in at all.
Red Dog was taken into the confidence of the chief, and agreed that the plan seemed good.
When the caravan reached a point that was said to be about five suns from the Salt River site for the Sun Dance, Heads Off and his young warriors began their mission.
Heads Off embraced his wife warmly. They had seldom been apart, and he regretted having to leave her now.
“Think of me sometimes,” he teased. “I will see you soon!”
Their journey to the Sun Dance site was pleasant. The prairie was green and fresh in the Moon of Roses. Buffalo and antelope dotted the distant hills, and the spicy smell of the grassland with its assorted flowers in full bloom was exhilarating.
In the morning of the third sun they saw ahead the smoke of a large camp, and by halfway through the day could see the first of the lodges. There was always the feeling of excitement at the annual gathering, like the atmosphere at a country fair in the land of Heads Off’s childhood. People walked, ran or moved about, called to each other, sang, or in general seemed to be enjoying each other. Dogs barked.
A group of riders swung out to meet them at a hard gallop, showing off their skills with the elk-dogs as they escorted the newcomers in.
Many Robes watched them come, from his comfortable position against his willow backrest. He was delighted to see them. He had had grave doubts about the ability of the Elk-dog band to survive when he saw so many of the younger warriors leave to follow that troublemaker. What was his name? Woodchuck or some such … Badger, that was it. There was a bad one, thought Many Robes.
The three men of the Elk-dog band rode up and dismounted to pay their respects. After the amenities, their hair-faced leader spoke.
“May I speak with you, my chief?”
The two young warriors with him slipped discreetly away.
Many Robes nodded, wondering what the problem was. Heads Off looked thin, and somewhat worried. It could not have been an easy year for him. Then there were the rumors that had filtered to the ears of the Real-chief. Tales of a battle with the Head Splitters, a big battle.
If Heads Off is here, thought the Real-chief, he must have defeated the enemy. Then what could be his problem? Many Robes half-closed his eyes and leaned back. He would learn in a moment.
“My chief will remember,” Heads Off began hesitantly, “that many of our young men left the People to follow Badger, who was banished by the Big Council.”
The Real-chief nodded, blowing a fragrant wisp of smoke from his pipe. He said nothing.
“Those young men have come back to us,” Heads Off continued.
The eyes of the Real-chief widened perceptibly. This could be a big problem, if the Elk-dog band had accepted the miscreants back against the edict of the Council. There must be more.
“We were about to be overrun by the Head Splitters, and they entered the fight.”
There was no change on the face of the stoic Many Robes.
“Badger is dead,” blurted Heads Off, now desperately looking for some small thing to break the calm composure of the other.
Inwardly, Many Robes relaxed. If that were the case, if the troublemaker was gone, then things could be handled. He closed his eyes.
“Tell me the whole story, Heads Off.”
Rapidly, Heads Off sketched in the events of the past year. By the time he described the charge of the Bloods down the slope to strike the enemy’s flank, Many Robes was sitting forward, excited.
“And who led them?”
“Red Dog, my chief. Badger had refused, and Red Dog took over leadership of the Bloods.”
Many Robes nodded, pleased. That young man would make a great leader.
“Tell me, Heads Off. Is it not true that the Council
expelled Badger for killing one of your band?”
“Yes, my chief.”
“No others were sent away? They only followed him?”
Heads Off nodded.
Many Robes spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “Then, where is your problem? Some of your young warriors went their own way for a season, and now they are back. There is nothing wrong with a new warrior society. Your elk-dog men,” the old chief smiled amiably, “started a new group.”
It was a long speech for Many Robes, and he paused for a little. Heads Off waited.
“When you come to the Council,” the Real-chief continued, his tone confidential, “bring your Blood Society in with the others, and say nothing of any problem. I think no one will question it.”
Heads Off was elated. It was so simple, now that he had the assurance of the Real-chief. Yes, the Bloods had been on their own for a season, and were now welcomed back. They had returned at a very fortunate time, and had turned the day for the Elk-dog band.
He located Long Elk and Standing Bird, and rapidly sketched in the details of his conversation with the Real-chief.
“Go back to the Elk-dogs,” he directed. “Tell Coyote and Red Dog what I have told you. I wish to see Red Dog as soon as he can get here.”
THREE SUNS LATER, AS DARKNESS FELL, THE PEOPLE GATHERED for the Big Council. Red Dog led his Bloods into the circle to take their places, well ahead of the arrival of the chiefs. He sat next to Standing Bird, by prearranged plan. At length they were joined by Heads Off.
Many Robes entered with dignity and the Big Council began.
The pipe ceremony progressed, and it was soon time for the chiefs to speak. Each in turn rose to tell of events in his own band.
First, Black Beaver of the Mountain band spoke. It had been a good winter with much game. They had seen no enemies.
“I am White Bear, of the Red Rocks,” stated the next chief. “Ours, too, has been a good year.” He sketched in a few details.
The Elk-Dog Heritage Page 16