Each dancer carried a fan made of the wing of an eagle, and the men dipped and rose as they pretended to be young eagles leaving the nest. They cried like eagles and whirled slowly, soaring on imaginary air currents. After an hour they dropped to their knees to rest, and the drums hushed. The midmorning sun was beginning to reach its full heat, and Naduah could feel the sweat running down her back. The dress felt heavy on her small shoulders.
She’d been frightened earlier, even though Medicine Woman had told her it was only pretend. Wanderer and his men were painted for war and looked fierce and dangerous as they surrounded Sunrise’s lodge, demanding her as a captive. Even knowing it was part of the ceremony, the sight of them triggered terrifying memories that had begun to sink into the sunless depths of her mind.
Sunrise had pretended to defend her with his lance, but they had brushed past him and carried her off to the center of the village. She had struggled a little. She had been frightened and embarrassed and worried that she might shame Wanderer in front of everyone. Now, except for the heat and the dust, she was enjoying the attention. At least she had been enjoying it until Yellow Wolf stood to tell a story while the dancers rested.
She didn’t like Yellow Wolf anyway. She didn’t like the way he peered around the thick nose that jutted from bulging brows. His eyes always seemed to her like an animal’s glaring from a dark cave. And the story he chose to tell made the sweat on her back turn to ice water. He was acting out Eagle’s coup on little John the day he and Naduah had been captured. Yellow Wolf must have been in the ring of men who had surrounded them. When he finished, there was laughter and yelling and a wild applause of drums and rattles and stamping feet.
Naduah didn’t look up until he had knelt back with the other dancers and the noise died. Then there was a rustling and stir at the rear of the crowd, and Sunrise and Takes Down The Lodge and Medicine Woman pushed their way through. They shouted and waved knives, threatening to snatch their child away and save her. Instead they laid presents in front of her—a small bag of tinkling metal cones, a yard of blue cloth, a pair of moccasins for everyday wear, a shinny ball. Then Pahayuca came forward, holding a bridle rein in his left hand. On the other end of it balked a longlegged, blood-bay filly. In her high black stockings she danced, alarmed by the noise and confusion. Pahayuca held the rein out toward Naduah to show that the horse was a gift, then led her out of the circle.
Medicine Woman hadn’t told her about the presents, and Naduah sat stunned by it all. The dance started up again and went through the afternoon, until the men dropped, one by one, panting and drenched with sweat. Through it all Wanderer sat, impassive as a statue, straight and silent. His eyes had the black rings painted around them, making them look like those of his brother, the wolf. Now he rose slowly and walked to the center of the ring.
Like a scepter he held his fan. It was made of the entire body of an eagle, the curved head and beak forming the handle. The body was wrapped in painted rawhide and the tailfeathers splayed out into the fan itself. Standing tall and alone, his face turned heavenward. Wanderer began his prayer for aid, chanting in a loud, clear voice.
Eagle Spirit, you see me here.
Help me.
I go to war to avenge my brother.
Help me.
Send good weather.
Send my brothers, the eagle and the wolf, to guide me.
I have smoked.
My heart is sad.
Give me the horses and the weapons of my enemies.
Give me their lives and the lives of their families.
I wish revenge.
Help me.
I will remember.
Help me.
Eagle Spirit, hear me.
Although he stood rigid and still, his arms upraised and only his mouth moving. Wanderer appeared to grow, to stretch upward, pleading and reaching for the power he would need to make his raid successful. Naduah told herself it must be dizziness from the heat that made him seem to shimmer and vibrate with energy, that made his voice boom like thunder, the words echoing and rolling off across the hills beyond the village.
When he finished, there was a long silence. He turned and handed Naduah his fan, then strode away without looking back. Each dancer in turn gave her his fan and rattle, then filed off toward the river to bathe. Takes Down brought a large bag to keep the men’s sacred objects in. As the People scattered to prepare for the evening’s feast. Takes Down and Medicine Woman and Star Name helped Naduah to her feet. Her legs were numb from sitting so long in the same position, but she was proud to have been chosen. Still, she could think of only two things. That Wanderer might not come back alive, and that now she had a pony of her own.
CHAPTER 17
“What shall we name her?” Naduah was chasing a horned toad to race with Star Name’s, but she was talking about her new filly grazing nearby. Naduah crept up on the tubby little lizard as it frantically flung sand over itself in its efforts to hide. It looked like a tiny armored dinosaur that had fallen under a rolling pin. She pounced on it, and two tiny drops of blood formed at the corners of its eyes.
“Look!” She showed them to Star Name.
“Yes. I’ve heard they can do that, but I’ve never seen it. We’ll ask Medicine Woman what it means.”
“Do you think it means something bad has happened to Wanderer?”
“I don’t know, Sister.”
Naduah held the homed toad until it stopped struggling and settled into the warmth of her hand. She pricked her finger as she lightly poked the spiked frill at the back of the lizard’s head. She repeated her first question.
“What should I name the filly?”
“The name will come to you. Be patient.”
“But she has to have one. How can I train her without one?”
“Then give her one for now and change it when the real name comes.”
“That would be confusing.”
“We do it all the time. You were Tsinitia, and now you’re Naduah, Keeps Warm With Us. Men change their names often.”
“Why do they do that?”
“Because they’re always looking for better medicine, or they hear a new spirit, or they do something special, or they just want to change. Sometimes people give them one they don’t even want, but they can’t get rid of it. Like Pahayuca. Do you think he wants to be called He Who Has Relations With His Aunt?”
“Why is he called that?”
“I don’t know. And I’m not going to ask him, either.”
“Where did Buffalo Piss get his name?”
Star Name laughed, a bubbling sound of pure joy that Naduah had come to love above all other sounds.
“On his first buffalo hunt his horse fell and a bull buffalo wet him as he ran by. And a bull buffalo pisses like a waterfall. It made Buffalo Piss so mad he mounted his horse and killed that buffalo and another one with the same arrow. Drove it right through them both. Everyone knew then that the buffalo piss was strong medicine, and he’s been called that ever since.”
“Then what about Pahayuca’s daughter, Kesua? That means Hard To Get Along With.”
“Kesua is so good-natured we named her that to tease her.”
“And why is this band called the Wasps?”
“Can’t you guess?” Naduah shook her head, and Star Name told her, “Our warriors sting hard and are gone before the enemy knows what hit them.”
“Why don’t the women change their names often the way the men do?”
Star Name had become used to Naduah’s constant questions about things everyone knew, and she answered them patiently. But she thought of Naduah as one of the People, and the gaps in her education sometimes took her by surprise. Of course women didn’t change their names as often as men. But why? She thought about it, sitting crosslegged in the thick grass, holding her own lizard in both her small brown hands.
“Because men need medicine to do the things they have to do. To be powerful in war, to find animals, and to be able to catch and kill them. The
ir names are part of their medicine. It doesn’t take much power to tan hides and set up lodges.” Star Name stood and struck a dignified pose. Holding her lizard toward the sun like an offering, she began chanting through her nose like Gets To Be An Old Man. “O Great Sewing Spirit, make my sinew strong and my fingers nimble and my stitches neat so that I may sew the shirts of my husband well.” They both giggled.
“But Sunrise is teaching me to use the bow and arrow. He says I should know how to do everything.”
“He’s right. He’s promised to teach me too. But it’s not what’s expected of you. The women keep the camp running, but the men keep it alive. They must be always ready to defend us. That’s why they never carry any baggage when we travel.”
Kneeling on the edge of the ring Star Name had drawn with the side of her moccasin, they leaned over and put their lizards in the center of it.
“If mine wins, Sister, you have to bring in a load of wood for me. And if yours wins, I’ll bring one for you,” Naduah said.
“Toquet, all right.” Still kneeling and holding her hands cupped over her entry, Star Name looked up slyly at Naduah.
“And if mine wins the next one, I get to be the first to greet Wanderer when he comes back.”
Naduah looked her friend in the eyes, hers contrasting with Star Name’s, sapphire and obsidian. She wasn’t going to be tricked into any confessions about Wanderer. She shared everything else with Star Name, but not her feelings about him. She changed the subject slightly.
“Do you think they’ll come back all right? Owl’s brother, Deep Water, went too, and the whole family will suffer if anything happens to him. They’ve been gone a long time.”
“Not so long. Less than two moons. Sometimes war parties are gone for years.” Years. It couldn’t be. “They may have to track the People Eaters all the way to the big water. Wanderer will bring his men back safely. Don’t worry.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course. He’ll be a famous chief someday.”
“How do you know?” It pleased her to hear him praised. Perhaps because he had captured her she felt proprietary toward him.
“It’s easy to see. He’s better than all the others his age, and better than many who are older than he is. Did he ever tell you about the time he counted coup on an entire Cheyenne war council?”
“No,” said Naduah. “When did he tell you?”
“He didn’t. I heard it from Pahayuca. He was telling the story the night of your naming feast. But you couldn’t understand it then, I suppose.”
“He counted coup on a war council? You mean they weren’t even in battle?”
“No, they were in camp. Getting ready to fight. It was two years ago. Wanderer’s brother dared him to do it.”
“Did his brother go with him?” Naduah knew she dared not use Eagle’s name. It would have been disrespectful to his memory.
“No. It was hard enough for one man to get away with it. It would have been suicide for two.”
“It sounds like suicide anyway. Alone! He was crazy!” Naduah chilled at the thought.
“Not crazy. Brave. Listen. He went to each man in his own party and borrowed Cheyenne clothes. The warriors often take enemy clothes with them, you know, especially those captured from a brave man. They wear them to call on the enemy’s spirits to help them too. And they use the captured moccasins to make confusing tracks.”
Naduah nodded sagely, although it was new to her.
“It was dark, and he rode right through their camp. He held his robe over his head and shielded his face. It was a temporary camp, and the council fire was not in a lodge. He stood with the men gathered around the Cheyenne war leaders, and he touched each leader with his quirt before slipping away. Then he mounted Night and rode out again. Suvate, that is all. You never heard that story?” Naduah shook her head. “It was one of Wanderer’s brother’s favorites.”
“I miss Wanderer’s brother. He always had funny stories to tell. But I never heard that one.”
“I think all of us together don’t miss him as much as Wanderer and Something Good do.” They were silent a moment, remembering the honey hunt. Then the lizards became restless, tickling the girls’ hands as they explored their sweaty cells.
“Sem-ah, Wa-hah-duh, Bhi-hee-duh, one, two, three!” The girls let them go, jumping and yelling as they urged them toward the finish line. The race ended quickly and the field scattered while their owners chased them again. Star Name panted as she picked up the dropped thread of the conversation.
“You can ask Owl’s grandfather to name the filly for you.”
“The arrow maker?”
“Yes. His name means Name Giver, you know.”
“You mean he really gives names?”
“Of course. He gave you yours, remember?” Even Star Name’s patience was becoming a little worn with heavy use. “You have to give him a present, but he would be happy with anything you’ve made. It doesn’t have to be anything big. He likes you. We’ll talk to him when we get back.” Star Name looked wistfully at the bay filly. ” I wish I had a pony.” She almost never looked unhappy, and it hurt Naduah to see her that way now.
“You can ride mine whenever you want. She’ll be old enough soon, Sunrise says. Just be patient. He says when you need something it will come.”
A dust cloud formed along the line of trees near the river and billowed toward them.
“Posa bihia, mischievous boys.” The People didn’t swear, but Star Name made the words sound like a curse. Upstream’s gang fanned out behind him, all of them riding at full gallop. “There’s the pony I should have had.” Star Name would always resent the fact that Upstream was younger yet had been given a pony. Of course, if he didn’t have one he would “borrow” one. And he did have to start his training. But Star Name still resented it.
“Look, Sister. Look! I killed it.” Upstream started yelling before he was even close enough to be understood. But he kept repeating it as he came closer.
“I killed it.” Sarai Na-pe, Dog Foot had a different opinion.
“I counted coup first.”
“But I killed it.”
When they pulled up in a huge cloud of dust and shower of pebbles, it was evident that several had killed it. The female pronghorn was stretched over the rump of Upstream’s small red pinto. The young horse had only been recently trained to carry dead game, and he was nervous. Upstream ignored his jumping and thrashing and pointed behind him. The pronghorn looked like a huge porcupine, with a hundred small arrows bobbing to the motion of the horse.
“I see it, Brother. I didn’t know you owned that many arrows!”
“The others shot it, but mine killed it.”
“Mine did.” Dog Foot was sticking to his story. The rest joined in, claiming their own coups or taking sides, and they all rode off in a pack, still arguing.
Star Name turned to Naduah. “There won’t be a bit of that meat that doesn’t taste like metal. And they probably ran it so much its flesh will be bitter anyway.”
Leaving their vanished racing lizards behind, they gathered up the filly’s reins, untied her tether, and walked off after the boys.
The stiff frayed buffalo hide lay forgotten, along with Naduah’s job of collecting dried buffalo chips to pile on it and drag back to Takes Down The Lodge. As she squatted, looking down at the pitiful little creature in the grass in front of her, Naduah remembered the swollen udders on the pronghorn Upstream and his friends had killed the day before. Why hadn’t the boys noticed them? Some hunters. They must have been too excited about their first big kill.
Too weak to run, the fawn looked up at her. The arrow in its leg must have been a stray that hit the animal as it hid in the tall grass. But the groove in its shaft had done the job it was designed for, and the blood had flowed freely from the wound. Now the fawn was too drained to walk, much less run.
“You’re a late one, aren’t you? You can’t be more than a month old.” Naduah spoke to it soothingly, resting on
her heels and parting the grass with her hands. “Where’s your brother? Are you alone?” Single births were rare with pronghorns, unless the mother had bred for the first time. Naduah walked cautiously around the area, looking for a twin. She poked into the grass with the stick she always carried on her fuel-gathering trips. She had learned never to put her hand into grass or bushes where she couldn’t see, or to turn over logs or deadfalls with anything but a stick. Too many stinging, biting creatures lived in such places.
While she searched, she wondered what to do. There weren’t any pets in camp, except for the young eagles, stolen as fledglings. But they were kept tethered to supply feathers for their captor. Now and then a child would make friends with a dog, but the friendship usually lasted until the dog took on more adult responsibilities. Naduah’s favorite, Dog, sat next to her now, head to one side and looking quizzically first at her, then at the fawn.
“No, we aren’t going to chase it, Dog.”
The dogs in camp had their uses. They pulled small travois and warned of enemy attack. They kept the camp clear of carrion, and their fights were a major source of entertainment. Besides, they were brothers to the coyotes and wolves, who were, in turn, brothers to the People. And dogs were never used as food. Pronghorns were.
She went back to where the fawn lay on her side, panting. Gently Naduah began to stroke her, caressing the silky smoothness of her long, cinnamon-colored coat. She continued murmuring to her even though the baby was too weak to struggle anyway. She stared at Naduah with huge, sad brown eyes under long black lashes. She shook her large, delicately veined ears and solved the question of what to do. The fawn had taken the child’s heart captive.
Naduah grunted as she stooped and lifted the animal, being careful not to disturb the small arrow. Pulling it out might start the bleeding again. The fawn weighed about ten pounds, and it was a long way back to camp. She abandoned the hide half full of chips and started off. She considered using the hide as a drag to carry the fawn, but was afraid the bumpy ground would hurt her even more than being carried. So she struggled toward home with the baby’s slender, black-tipped legs dangling below her arms and her head resting trustingly against Naduah’s shoulder.
Robson, Lucia St. Clair Page 20