by James Welch
Boss Ribs was a tall, loose-jointed man with a sad face. Although he was a rich man and the keeper of the Beaver Medicine, many in the camp pitied him, for he had lost two wives and three children. Some even questioned his role as keeper of the sacred medicine since he had encountered so much misfortune himself. Fools Crow had heard Young Bird Chief say, “How can he help the Lone Eaters if he can’t help himself?” The other young men agreed that it was a curious thing. But Boss Ribs performed the ceremony correctly and well, and the power did help the sick ones, the poor ones, and Fools Crow knew that he was highly respected among the elders.
Finally Boss Ribs set his pipe down next to his tobacco pouch. He leaned back against his willow backrest and pulled a robe over his legs. He closed his eyes for a long time. Fools Crow thought the man was tired, so he packed his own pipe away. Just as he started to rise, Boss Ribs said, “I will tell you the story of the Beaver Medicine.”
Fools Crow noticed that there were fire shadows dancing on the walls of the lodge. It had gotten dark outside.
“In the long-ago, before the coming of the elk-dogs, there lived two brothers: orphans, they were. The younger was named Akaiyan. He lived with his brother, Nopatsis, and his wife. Now this wife was a cruel one and she didn’t like Akaiyan in their lodge. Many times she told her husband to cast him out, but he always refused. He knew what it was like to be young and alone, and he said there would always be a place for Akaiyan in his lodge.
“One day Nopatsis went out hunting, for they were low on meat and had been living for some time on gophers and mice. When he returned he found his wife with her clothes torn and her legs bleeding. She told him that Akaiyan had attacked her and roughed her up. This was a lie, of course, for Akaiyan was a gentle young man. But Nopatsis, perhaps because he was tired of his wife’s constant badgering, became very angry, and in a few days he devised a plan to rid himself and his wife of his younger brother. It was during that time of summer when the ducks and geese lose their feathers. Nopatsis said to Akaiyan, ‘Let us go to the island in the big lake and collect feathers for our arrows.’ So off they went, and when they came to the big lake, they built a raft and floated on it to the island. Now, Akaiyan, being unaware of his brother’s treachery, walked around the island, picking up feathers until he had quite a bundle, as many as he could carry. When he returned to the raft it was gone and he saw his brother paddling to the far shore. He cried out and begged his brother to come back for him, but the brother merely laughed at him. ‘You can spend the winter on your island, and in the spring when the ice melts I will come back for your bones,’ said Nopatsis.
“Akaiyan thought he was going to die, so he sat down and wept and beat the ground with his hand. He called to Sun Chief, to Night Red Light, to Morning Star to help him. He prayed to the Underwater People to save him. Oh, he was sad. He didn’t want to die alone on that island without even a wife to mourn him. He pitied himself and cried all the more. Soon, though, he gathered up his courage and decided to make the best of it. He collected more feathers for a bed, cut down tree limbs for a shelter and killed ducks and geese for his meals. He skinned these birds and made himself a warm robe of their pelts.
“One day he came to a small pond where he saw a beaver lodge. He lay down and wept, for it was approaching the moon of the first snow and he had no home of his own. Soon a little beaver came out of the lodge and said, ‘Come in, you wretched one, my father would talk to you.’ With that the beaver jumped in the water and Akaiyan followed him. They swam into a long dark tunnel, and the only way Akaiyan could see was from the little bubbles the beaver made with his tail. Just when he thought his lungs were about to burst, his head popped up and he was in a big dark lodge. When his eyes became adjusted, he looked around and saw many beaver children and a mother and father. This father was as white as the snow goose and bigger than any wood-biter Akaiyan had ever seen. He knew this must be Beaver Chief. He began to shiver in fear, but Beaver Chief told him to settle down and tell him why he had been crying. When Akaiyan told his sad story, Beaver Chief took pity on him and said he could live with them all winter. With that, his wife closed up the lodge.
“Akaiyan stayed with the beaver family. They slept all around him and put their tails over him to keep him warm. All winter Beaver Chief taught him things, many great things. He taught the young man the roots and herbs, the leaves and bark that our people still use for healing. He taught him paints and rituals that could be used for healing the sick. He gave Akaiyan tobacco seeds, which our people later made grow and now use in ceremonials. Above all, Beaver Chief taught him the songs and dances, the acting, that would accompany the magic of these wonderful things. It was a good winter for Akaiyan. He learned much and he grew to love the beaver family and think of himself as one of them, for he had never had a family of his own.
“One day, when seven moons were up, Akaiyan heard the ice breaking on the lake. It would soon be time to leave the good beaver family. He began to gather up his things, but Beaver Chief told him to wait awhile, for he knew that the bad Nopatsis was returning to the island to search for his younger brother’s bones. Akaiyan hid behind a tree and watched his brother paddle the raft to the island. He had a big smile on his face, for he had become a cruel one. Akaiyan watched him jump off the raft, singing to himself. When his brother disappeared into the trees, Akaiyan paddled the raft to the other shore. Many moons later, when he returned to the island, Akaiyan found his older brother’s bones not far from the beaver lodge.
“Now the young beaver who had found Akaiyan and brought him into the lodge missed his new brother. One night he came to Akaiyan in a dream and told the young man that he would teach him even more wonderful things, so the next day Akaiyan returned to the big lake and, sure enough, there was the little beaver waiting for him. Together the two brothers made their way back to Akaiyan’s village, and when Akaiyan told the people who the little beaver was, they raised a great cry and were happy to see him. All that summer the little wood-biter taught the people the songs and dances and prayers of the beaver family. Akaiyan of course had already learned these things, so he assisted in the teaching. One day, the little beaver told Akaiyan that it was time for him to leave. He had taught the people and now he missed his family. Akaiyan was sad, but he knew how it is with families. Before he left, the young beaver gave the young man a sacred pipe. He said, ‘Whoever smokes this pipe will remain in good health. Put this in your bundle, Akaiyan, and let it be the first thing you lift out when you perform your ceremony.’
“That spring Akaiyan invited all the four-leggeds, the flyers, the underwater swimmers, the things that crawl along the ground, to add to the power of the bundle. Many of them offered their skins and the songs that went with them; some just their songs or dances. Every spring Akaiyan returned to the beaver family and Beaver Chief would give him something to add to the bundle—a headdress, an eagle-bone whistle, a sacred tobacco planting stick—until it became as large as you see it now. Akaiyan became a great Beaver Medicine man and raised his own family and lived for many years. Before he died he handed the bundle down to his son. It has been handed down ever since.”
Fools Crow drew a deep breath and sat back. He looked at the Beaver Medicine bundle, which lay not more than three paces away. His head almost hurt from his fierce listening. He had heard the story of the origin of the medicine when he was a child. It was one of his grandfather’s favorite stories. But this telling was different. It came from the lips of the man who was the keeper of the bundle, who had learned the ways of the medicine the same way Akaiyan had learned it in the long-ago. And there lay the bundle, filled with magic and power.
“Mik-api tells me you are becoming wise in the ways of medicine,” said Boss Ribs.
“I have helped Mik-api and he has taught me many things. There is so much to learn, sometimes I think my head is not capable of absorbing it all.”
“You are young. There was a time when I thought I would never learn the ceremony of the Beaver Medicine.
Once you understand, it becomes easier.” Boss Ribs sat forward suddenly and looked down into Fools Crow’s eyes. “Once you commit yourself to such knowledge, there is no turning away.”
Fools Crow was surprised at the edge in Boss Ribs’ voice. It was as though the older man was warning him, but he hadn’t committed himself. He liked Mik-api and he liked the medicine, but he did not think of himself as the old man’s successor. Until now he hadn’t thought of himself as anything but a hunter. His warring and raiding were not unusual for a Pikuni. He had killed the Napikwan more out of fear than for honor. No, he was a blackhorn hunter, a provider of meat and skins, nothing more.
He looked at the fire and said, “What is it you wish of me, Boss Ribs?”
Some children ran by, leaving a trail of laughter in the shadowy lodge. Each man remembered that he had been a child once, had laughed the same way, at nothing but his own joy.
“What is it you wish?”
Boss Ribs rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I would like two things from you, young one. First, tell me what it was that changed my son so—that turned him away.”
Without hesitation, Fools Crow told the father of Fast Horse about the raid on the Crows. He left nothing out. He described Fast Horse’s dream in detail, the search for the ice spring, the anger of Cold Maker, the frustration of his friend. With some reluctance, he told Boss Ribs of his son’s careless treachery that led to Yellow Kidney’s discovery and mutilation. He knew Boss Ribs had heard that part, had probably lived with it in dreams, but he wanted to tell it right, perhaps to clarify it in his own mind.
“Fast Horse did not fulfill the vow he made to Cold Maker. He was afraid of what he had done to Yellow Kidney. He was afraid that Cold Maker would consider him unworthy—and harm him.” Fools Crow was guessing, but he had given it a lot of thought.
Even when he had recovered from his wounds, Fast Horse had never mentioned the Crow raid to Fools Crow. During their walks together, Fast Horse had spoken of things from their childhood, the places he had been, the things he had seen. Once, on the bank of the Two Medicine, as they were watching Sun Chief return to his home, Fools Crow told him about the Napikwan in the mountains, how afraid he had been of the giant man, how he thought he was going to die a shameful death. He had hoped such an admission would bring Fast Horse to open up about his own shameful behavior on the raid, but his friend just laughed and said there would be many more Napikwans to kill. Then, the night before Fast Horse left again, he came to Fools Crow’s lodge. Red Paint went off to gather wood in the snowy night, but Fools Crow knew she would go to her parents’ lodge. Fast Horse came close to thanking his friend for saving his life. The feelings were in the air like smoke, but the words would not come. There was a moment of silence and Fools Crow thought his friend would finally say something about the long-ago raid, perhaps as a favor to him. Fast Horse had looked keenly at him and there was pain in his eyes, but as he did so often, he laughed and talked of the women he had met on his war trail. Impulsively, Fools Crow had cut him off with the suggestion that Fast Horse should talk to Boss Ribs, that his father could help him; at the very least, go see Mik-api. Both were great medicine men and could cure a man of whatever it was deep inside that troubled him. Fast Horse had flared with anger and said their magic was no good for him. Then he left the lodge that night and left camp the next morning.
The sound of Boss Ribs’ voice interrupted his thought. “I know my son has done wrong. He has shamed himself and he has shamed me. Worst of all, he is responsible for turning a brave into a pitiful thing. I can never look Yellow Kidney in the eye for shame. Perhaps Fast Horse deserves to carry this burden with him wherever he goes.”
A dog barked close by, followed by an angry curse and a thump.
“But he is my only son. You know of my losses, Fools Crow, you know how Fast Horse lost his mother when he was a young child. Sometimes, I think I am cursed with this Beaver Medicine. Sometimes, I think I do not perform the ceremony well enough, that I anger Beaver Chief. But the people come to me and I make them well! Yes, through Beaver Chief I cure their illnesses, heal their wounds, their spirits. I return sons to mothers, wives to husbands, brothers to sisters. I thank Beaver Chief for these blessings every day. I pray to him to carry the evil spirit from my son’s heart. But when I ask for myself, he does not listen. I think sometimes that the keeper of the bundle is the only one who does not benefit. Many times I have thought to sell it. Rich men from all the bands would wish to possess it, for it makes them powerful.” Boss Ribs smiled at Fools Crow. His eyes glistened.
“But always in my heart I knew that I would pass it to my only son, even if it meant misfortune for him too. Now it seems he has created his own. If he is not stopped in this course he has chosen, it will only be a matter of time before he is dead—and not honorably. I have become a foolish old man, but I think there is a chance that we can save him before this happens.”
Fools Crow had been stirring the fire. Now he looked up at Boss Ribs. Although he had heard every word, he found his mind drifting, his thoughts shifting from Fast Horse to his own brother. Running Fisher had become sullen in the same way that Fast Horse had after the raid. Something had happened to Running Fisher that day Sun Chief hid his face. Fools Crow remembered the fear in his brother’s face and tried to remember if he had seen him during the battle in the Crow village. The fighting had been so heated, and Fools Crow himself had been so scared—
“Go after him, Fools Crow. Find him and bring him back. Get him away from that treacherous gang. I will begin to instruct him in the ways of the Beaver Medicine. He will learn that it is his destiny as well as his duty. Tell him his father begs him, his people beg him. There can be no turning away!”
Fools Crow looked into the young, frightened eyes of his friend’s father, and the look alarmed him. He thought of the many times Boss Ribs had opened the Beaver Medicine, how the people came to him in despair and left with hope in their hearts, how the young ones learned the ways of the old rituals by observing him and his sacred helpers, how the unhealthy ones gained strength through the medicine. Fools Crow glanced at the medicine bundle. The outer covering was of stiff rawhide. The painted red designs were faded by weather, barely noticeable, much less intelligible. Inside was the power of the Pikunis. “This magic is no good for me”—that’s what Fast Horse had said. And Mik-api had said, “I can’t heal a man who doesn’t have the heart for it.” What good would it do to bring Fast Horse back?
“I will look for him,” said Fools Crow. The weakness in his voice irritated him. He had wished to be more positive. “I will find him and bring him home.”
PART THREE
18
THE WARM CHINOOK WIND had blown for two days and a night. While the snow was still heavy in the ravines, cutbanks and valleys, most of the hills of the plain were yellow with sparse grass. A small herd of blackhorns grazed on the slope of a ravine to the west. Most of them were old bulls, no longer important to the larger herds. Their coats were ragged and reddish in color. One bull lay in the sun, his eyes closed, his large head nodding in sleep. His withers were gaunt and his tail was crusted with shit. A single fly, hatched by the warm winds, crawled over the mucus in the corner of his eye. The bull did not know where he was anymore. His breath came in harsh gasps, but he did not care that he was dying. A black-and-white long-tail, perched on his rump, picked at the crusty scabs with great care.
Owl Child sat on his horse on the south side of a steep hill. The snow was slushy beneath the horse’s hooves. Wind ruffled the two hawk feathers tied in the mane between the horse’s ears. Owl Child had one leg up, crooked around the saddle horn. He was working on his rifle. A cartridge had jammed in the breech and he was trying to free it with his knife. He could just get the tip of the blade beneath the lip at the base of the greased shooter, but every time he twisted the blade it would slip off. “Sonofabitch,” he swore. He knew several of the Napikwan words, but this was the one he liked best.
“Sonofabitch,�
� said Crow Top.
Owl Child looked up from his work and grinned. Then he felt the knife blade catch again. This time he wedged the knife against the thick barrel and eased the cartridge out. It popped loose and fell into the slushy snow.
“Sonofabitch!” shouted Crow Top, and the other men laughed.
Owl Child jacked another cartridge into the chamber. It slid in easily. Owl Child beamed. “Fast Horse, how is it this Crow Top speaks like a Napikwan, yet he is the blackest of all the Pikunis?”
Red Horn, Star and Black Weasel laughed again. Their horses, awakened by the rough sound, shifted uneasily beneath them. Only The Cut Hand did not laugh. He was ill with the white man’s disease. He had drunk half a jug of whiskey two days ago and the poison was still in his guts.
Fast Horse lay on his buffalo coat on the side of the hill. The three-day ride down from Mountain Chiefs camp had exhausted him. He looked up at the small fleecy clouds scattered throughout the blue. “He must have learned it from that fat white woman.”
“Ah, she was good,” said Crow Top. “She taught me many things. Someday I will learn that language; then I will teach you good.”