Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)

by James Welch

  As Joe Kipp talked with the Captain Snelling, Fools Crow noticed that the striped-sleeve had set his eyes hard on Three Bears. He wasn’t listening to Kipp’s words. He had heard it all already.

  14

  FOOLS CROW SQUEEZED THE TRIGGER and quickly pumped another shell into the chamber, but there was no need. The white bighead collapsed where he had stood, then rolled over and off the narrow granite ledge. He hit the long slide of scree at the top and slid all the way to the bottom. The report of the shot echoed in the high bowl, followed by the harsh slide of thin jagged shale. Then it was quiet. From this distance the white animal looked like a piece of summer snow. Fools Crow stood up and flexed his legs. He had been stalking the animal for most of the morning, and his body was sore from the climbing. He breathed deeply and looked around at the gray mountains. He hadn’t known how good it would be for him and Red Paint to get away from the camp of the Lone Eaters. The visit by the seizers had only heightened a tension that had existed since the Sun Dance, since Mountain Chief’s speech and Owl Child’s reaction to it. So many Napikwans, closing in all the time, made the people feel that their time on the plains was numbered. Lately, their only contacts with white people brought bad news. It saddened them that Mountain Chief, their leader, was now on the run. It angered them to think that the seizers thought he could control Owl Child, as one hobbles a horse that has a tendency to wander. Now the seizers were determined that Mountain Chief pay for the crimes of Owl Child. This was like shooting one gopher because another gopher had bitten a child’s finger. War with the Napikwans seemed unavoidable—even Rides-at-the-door, who for so long had counseled peace, now saw war as a possible solution and had said so at the council called after the seizers had left—and so Fools Crow was glad to come to the Backbone to clean his mind, to renew his spirit. When he and Red Paint returned to their people, he would be ready to fight for the hunting ranges that belonged to the Pikunis.

  They had been in the mountains for eighteen sleeps, and now the moon was approaching the time of the first frost on the plains. In the mountains, the quaking-leaf trees were already turning a faint yellow. Cold Maker would soon be stirring in his lodge in the Always Winter Land. Fools Crow had made an offering to Cold Maker soon after Fast Horse had left the Lone Eaters. He and Eagle Ribs had left camp before dawn one morning and ridden all that day to a sandy creek just on the other side of the Medicine Line. They made a fire and burned sweet grass. Then they placed two prime blackhorn hides in the notch of a young big-leaf tree. They threw wood on the fire until it blazed high; then they let it die down to a bed of red coals in the gathering dusk. As they rode back to camp in the starry night, they sang of their sacrifice and prayed that Cold Maker would find the robes adequate to clothe his daughters. The thought of them shivering in their birdskins in that Always Winter Land filled the men with pity. The coals would provide eyes for them to look down on the Pikunis and intercede on their behalf if Cold Maker became angry this winter. As they guided themselves to camp by the moonlit outlines of the Backbone, they suddenly felt an icy wind on their backs and knew that Cold Maker had come to claim their offerings.

  Fools Crow took off his shirt and sat down on the trail. It was just wide enough for him to stretch out his legs. He leaned back into a shallow crevice, into the shade, and closed his eyes. He knew he should get down to dress out the white bighead, but the sun was warm and he needed a rest.

  He awoke to the sound of laughter. He sat up quickly and bumped his head on a jutting rock. “Oh,” he said. “Oh!” The laughter grew louder. He wiped away the tears. To the west he could see Sun returning to his home. He scrambled to his feet and picked up his rifle. “Who is it?” he said. “Who laughs at me when I am in such pain?” He spun around and lifted the rifle.

  “Easy, brother,” croaked Raven. “I was only laughing at what is going on below. Have a look.”

  Fools Crow leaned over the ledge. At the bottom of the scree he saw a large dark shadow haloed with silver. Just before it entered the timber he caught a glimpse of white hair. The white bighead!

  “Ah, ah!” Raven laughed. “Ah, ah! Real-bear is a thief. Look at him, as if he couldn’t hunt for himself.”

  Fools Crow heard the animal crashing through the timber. He turned to Raven. “Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”

  “You think I haven’t anything better to do, foolish man? I have to hunt for my wives. All day they pester me about not providing for them.” Raven smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was just about to fly down there and take a piece for myself, but real-bear beat me to it.”

  “I stalked that white bighead all morning,” said Fools Crow bitterly. “I thought to lay my head on his white fur this winter. Now I have nothing.”

  “Now, now. Why is it you nothing-men think only of yourselves? Look at it this way—you have made a great sacrifice to real-bear. He will not forget. Besides, he makes your power animal look like the turnip.”

  “You speak the truth,” admitted Fools Crow. “Real-bear’s power is the greatest of all the four-leggeds. He is a relative of the Pikunis. Still, I wish he hadn’t chosen my bighead.”

  “The greater the sacrifice, the greater the reward.” Raven hopped down onto a ledge at shoulder level. He ruffled his feathers and shit. Then he cocked his head and looked across the bowl toward Rising Mountain. “I have come to speak to you about another matter.”

  Fools Crow was surprised to see that Raven’s whiskers were white, like those of an old coyote. But his eyes were dark and lively. The feet that curled over the edge of the rock were black and tough. Fools Crow blinked as though his eyes played tricks on him. When he looked again, he saw a thin band of silver around one of Raven’s ankles. A pale blue stone caught the last of Sun’s light.

  “Nice, isn’t it? Not long ago I flew down to the Always Summer Land to visit with my brothers there. One of them had taken this from the Many Bracelets People. It has great power, Fools Crow. Now I see farther than ever.”

  “You know my new name?”

  Raven laughed softly. “When I was flying home I decided to stop and see how the Crows were faring. I’m not too fond of the men, but the women enjoy my company. They give me lots to eat, and they are nice to behold when one’s eyes are sore with the wind. There is something about Crow women that makes me think of my youth....”

  “You saw our war party attack the camp of Bull Shield!”

  “Oh, yes. You killed twenty-three men. Alas, you also killed six women and one child.” Raven sighed. “Such is war.”

  “Then you saw me kill the two warriors!” Fools Crow exclaimed. “You saw me trick Bull Shield!”

  Raven reached down and picked at the silver bracelet. It jingled on the rock, the tiny sound echoing around the basin. “I don’t think you fooled him, do you? The one you got your name for?”

  Fools Crow felt his face grow hot with shame. “I fell,” he said weakly. “I thought I had been shot. I bad been shot, but ...”

  Raven laughed at the young man’s discomfort. “Ah, but you see how it turns out? The people don’t know that, and so they speak your name with admiration. It makes them feel good that one so brave walks among them. It increases the Pikuni power. I’ll never tell.”

  Both man and bird were silent for a moment, watching Sun Chief slip behind a jagged peak. The heat from the rocks behind them warmed their backsides.

  “Your long-ago people believed that Napi, who created them and gave them life and death, lived among these mountains, that he retired here after his work was completed.”

  “Yes,” said Fools Crow. “My grandfather said that Old Man —and Old Woman—still live in that place that gives life to Old Man River across the Medicine Line. He said that one can still see Napi’s gambling place up there.”

  “He was a gambler, all right. After he made the first two-leggeds, he and Old Woman decided to gamble to see if your kind should live forever.” Raven puffed his feathers. “I was there. He picked up a blackhorn chip and said, ‘I will th
row this into the lake, and if it floats, the people will die for four sleeps, then return. If it sinks, they will die forever.’ So saying, he threw the chip out as far as he could and it floated. But Old Woman, who was something of a gambler too, said, ‘No, let me. I will throw this rock into the water. That will determine the people’s fate.’ The rock sank, and so you two-leggeds die forever. Even Napi couldn’t control his woman,” Raven said sadly.

  “But good came of it. Now people take care of themselves. And when they die, others feel sorry for them. It would be sad to die and think that nobody pities you.”

  “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

  “He was a wise man.”

  “Not always.” Raven laughed. “I knew him when he was a youth. Wild and reckless, that one. Of course, he was poor—he was the poorest one of the Black Doors. He reminded me a little of you when you first came to see me, poor and out of luck. I often wonder what would have happened to your grandfather if I had not helped him....” Raven had a faraway look in his eyes. Then he shook his head. “But that is not what I wish to talk to you about.

  “You see, seven, eight moons ago I became aware of an evil presence here in the Backbone. At first, I must admit, I didn’t think of it as such. During my hunts I began to notice a lot of dead animals—real-bears, their cousins the black sticky-mouths, long-tails, real-dogs, wags-his-tails, even the flyers, white-head and Peta. In the beginning, I thought Sun Chief had chosen to smile on his poor relative. I brought the meat home to my wives and we gorged ourselves. Unlike you two-leggeds, we ravens prefer the meat of the meat-eaters; it has more tang. After several days, my wives became worried and asked me to find out what was the matter with these creatures that they couldn’t hold onto life. I told them to shut up and enjoy the bounty, but they persisted in their demands.” Raven wiped his beak under his wing. “By this time my belly was so big I couldn’t fly very well. I begged my wives to let me rest up, but the cruel things pushed me out of the tree and said I couldn’t come home until I had solved this riddle.

  “Well, although my guts were aching with surfeit, I began to scout around, and it didn’t take me long. The second day out I came upon a clearing filled with berries. There, in the center, a large real-bear was stripping the bushes into his mouth. It was disgusting the way his muzzle was covered with purple juice, but I decided to ask him if he knew what was going on. Just as I began my descent, he stood up and looked around. As you know, the real-bear has weak eyes but his nose is keen. He began sniffing the air, and that’s when the Napikwan jumped up and shot him four times with his many-shots. That was natural enough. The two-leggeds are always killing for meat and hides. I settled in a tree and waited for the Napikwan to dress him out. I confess, the smell of blood had made me hungry again. I was anxious for some guts, but the Napikwan walked up to Real-bear and shot him once more, this time in the ear. Then he swore in this peculiar language and walked away, leaving his kill.

  “For three more sleeps I followed this strange Napikwan that leaves his meat. He killed a long-tail, a bighead, three real-dogs and five wags-his-tails. He even tried to kill your brother, Skunk Bear, but I flew ahead and warned him. In anger, the Napikwan took a shot at me, scared the shit out of me, so I left. But for many moons now the hunter kills animals until they become scarce. I fear he will kill us all off if something isn’t done.

  “It was more than good fortune that brought you to me. I was flying over this bowl when my eye caught sight of the white bighead lying at the bottom of the slide. I thought, Oh, the crazy Napikwan kills another of my brothers. You see, I have become afraid even to go down and pick carcasses. Look how skinny I have become. My wives call me coward and pick on me. Then I saw you up here, sleeping in the warm sun, and I knew Sun Chief had sent you.”

  Fools Crow frowned. He looked at Raven and saw that it was true that he had become thin and ragged. Now his eyes didn’t look so sharp and he seemed much older than the time he had led Fools Crow to the trapped wolverine. He pitied the old bird. “What can I do?” he said.

  Without looking at his companion, Raven said, “You must kill the Napikwan with your many-shots gun.”

  Fools Crow shuddered, as though the evening air had turned to winter. To kill a Napikwan! Had not the seizers warned the people? Hadn’t his own father spoken against making trouble with them? He thought of Owl Child and Fast Horse and their gang, but they were different. They had nothing to lose, they were hardly Pikunis anymore.

  “I can’t do it,” said Fools Crow, defeat coloring his voice.

  “Would you have all your brothers killed off, then?”

  “But surely Real-bear could sneak up on him and—”

  “This one is different. He is more animal than human. His ears can hear a leaf turn at five hundred paces. His eyes can spot a worm deep within the earth. They say he can smell a stone beyond the next ridge. No, we are no match for him—and that is why Sun Chief sends you to us. Only Fools Crow can kill this Napikwan.”

  “But how? Even now I tremble to think of this man. He will kill Fools Crow! Such a one would not release my spirit to the Shadowland. I would become a ghost. My people would grieve.”

  “But that is why Napi decided you would die forever—so your people would cry and mourn your loss.” Raven smiled wryly. Than his eyes glittered with tears. “I thought Fools Crow was a man, but now I see I was wrong. He would see his brothers, the four-leggeds and the flyers, perish and not put up a fight. He would allow his people to mourn the passing of their little brothers and starve for want of meat. He would rather his unborn son—”

  “No, no, do not go on, Raven! Do not speak of such things. It was a selfish coward’s heart that made me tremble with fear when I learned of Sun Chiefs desire that I destroy this Napikwan.” Fools Crow brushed away a tear. “I will kill this one who snuffs out life so easily.”

  Raven looked at him shrewdly. “If your heart is not in this ...”

  “Now I hate him as I feared him before. I will kill him with a good heart. Fools Crow will put an end to this evil one.”

  Raven laughed. “Don’t overdo it. You will need your strength for the accomplishment of this deed.” He strutted back and forth on the ledge. “Such a brave one! A minute ago he is weeping with fear, and now he will rid the world of all evil!” Fools Crow could see his friend’s spirits rise. He too began to laugh, and the sound of their laughter traveled far in the approaching dusk.

  Red Paint, stirring the berry soup in the valley below, heard the laughter and a smile lit her face.

  That night Raven visited the dreaming place of the Napikwan. The cabin was made of log and mud and was dark. It was so low and small it scarcely cast a shadow. Raven pulled down on the rawhide string on the outside of the door. The latch inside popped up and the door swung open, just wide enough for the ugly bird to waddle through. Across the room he could see coals smoldering in a rock fireplace. The inside of the hut smelled of smoke and rancid grease and the Napikwan’s sour body. The greasy smell sharpened Raven’s appetite but he kept his mind on his work. He hopped up on a short bedpost at the man’s feet. His eyes had adjusted completely to the windowless room. He could see the big white feet pointing up at the bottom of the sleeping robe. There were three toes missing from the left one. Raven flapped his wings and flew as lightly as he could to a head post. The draft of his wings made the Napikwan’s hair flutter. He stopped in the middle of a snore and licked his lips; then the air rushed out of his mouth with a whistle.

  From the post Raven could see this strange man who leaves his kills, and it was not a bad face in repose. The nose was long and sculpted on the sides with shadows. The eyelashes were fine and curved, if a little crusty. The rest of the face was covered with curly hair, a shade darker than the straight sandy hair on the head. Raven looked the length of the body. The white feet were a long way away.

  Now Raven leaned over and began to sing in a voice unlike his own. The notes were as sweet and strong as those of the yellow-breast, yet
made no sound in the small room. The words entered the man’s ears and caused him to stop snoring. The words told a story of a young Pikuni woman, lovely and graceful, a woman of such charms that she made men mad with longing. He sang of her shiny hair that hung undone to the small of her back, of her breasts so pale and firm they reminded one of the snowbird eggs, of the lean dark thighs that invited a man. Raven was beginning to enjoy his work. He sang of long soothing fingers, of skin as smooth and cool as the wet fur of otter, of eyes that made the female wags-his-tail cover her own in shame. The room had become hot and Raven began to sing the praises of her hips, her nose and toes, the delicate hair of her center. Raven stopped and wiped his sweaty brow with the edge of his wing. Then he leaned closer to the man’s ear and whispered where he could find this desirable creature. Raven told him to be sure to wear his wolf headdress so that the maiden wouldn’t mistake him for another Napikwan. She was so lonely she would fall in love with the first man she laid eyes on.

  Raven flew down and waddled out of the cabin. He jumped up and caught the string in his beak and closed the door. Then he sighed, a long shuddering croak. He would fly directly home. He had been away from his wives too long.