by L. E. Waters
More gas noises from Apawi. It takes everything I have not to laugh.
Hanska looks angry but keeps on. “And got her on my pony before the men could reach me.”
They elders nod in great approval. Weayaya asks, “Chayton, is this all true?”
“It is true, and it was very daring. The boys that came behind him to get their own women were chased with guns.”
Eyota asks, “Hanska, what will you do with the girl?”
“If I can receive my vision quest, I will marry her.”
Apawi laughs. “I don’t think there is a teepee big enough for the both of you and your big head.”
A few of the elder’s stone-faces crack at this.
Eyota turns his gaze from Hanska and looks at the rest of us. “Is that the only honor to be given?”
Paytah speaks. “Chayton should be honored. He led our raid, allowing all of us to escape without injury. He ambushed the Ojibwa warriors and forced them to retreat.”
The chief straightens his back. “You have done well then, Chayton.”
Weayaya asks his grandson, “And what about you, Paytah? You have been raiding now for two years. How have you done in this raid?”
Hanska replies instead. “He has yet to capture a pony.”
The rashes start to creep back up Paytah’s neck, but Apawi chides, “So full of yourself, Hanksa, that there is no room left for your brothers?”
Weayaya turns to the shamed Paytah. “Why do you think it is?”
“I prefer to protect my brothers than to lasso horses.”
He checks with Chayton, who nods in agreement, and Weayaya says, “A tribe cannot all be the same to live. Everyone has their strengths and if Paytah’s strength is protecting his tribe then that should be valued too.”
Eyota nods to this. “Is that all then?”
Chayton speaks again, “It must be said that Kohana has stolen a pony on his first raid.”
Weayaya’s eyes light up in surprise, and then he looks at me with a slight smile. “Good, Kohana. That is good.”
“Beginner’s luck,” spits Apawi.
The chief says, while sweeping his hand out the teepee flap, “Leave us to discuss if anyone should be passed.”
We walk out and eat at the fire near the lodge. Our mothers bring us food as little boys run around us wishing they were older. After a short time, the council calls us back in, and Eyota says, “Chayton and Hanska may go on their vision quests. That is all.”
Chayton slaps Paytah on the back as they walk away. “You are now the oldest in the raiding group. It is your turn to lead.”
Paytah seems unsure about this but says, “Good luck on your quest.”
Hanska throws his knife up in the air to see it come back down and stick in the dirt. “Mika, here I come.”
Chayton shakes his head at his boldness. “You have not met Mika’s father yet.”
Chapter 7
The buffalo hunt is upon us as the air gets crisp and the buffalo moves westward. We pick up camp and move with the buffalo. All of the camps gather for this, so now Wakinyan is in my camp. I find every excuse I can to walk by her teepee in the morning while she does her work. But this year I’m to join the hunt. Hanska, back from his vision quest, pulls me aside to instruct me how the hunt works: what to do, and—more importantly—what not to do. I feel ready, and as soon as a scout returns to tell us where a nice herd of buffalo grazes, we jump on our ponies, wearing little and carrying only our bows and arrows. The lighter you are, the faster your pony can run.
Just before we’re ready to go, Chase and Reynard walk their tall horses up behind us.
“I never miss a good buffalo hunt,” Reynard says, with a smirk.
They both have heavy saddles and wear full clothing. Instead of bows, they bring their large guns. Even though many Lakota have guns, we find that it’s just as good to hunt with bows and arrows.
Chase speaks, “Buffalo good.”
We all spurt with laugher at his attempt to use our language.
The women, children, wintes and old men cheer us on with happy yelps as the warriors, hunters and raiders leave on horseback. We ride over a knoll, leading down to a flat plain that stretches away to the wondrous sight of hundreds of dark brown beasts. Our War Chief, Otaktay, gestures to spread us out in a semicircle. I stay beside Hanska. The palefaces are on my left. Otaktay leads the way and moves slowly, trying not to spook the buffalo before we surround them. Once the warriors spread wide, Otaktay snaps his arms down, and we all speed straight for the herd. As the many beasts stampede, we’re hit with a thundering, ground-shaking sound that makes my blood freeze. It’s the same sound that I woke to the night I lost my father.
I try to remember what Hanska told me, “Pick one buffalo.” When I draw near, I set my sights on one of the smaller ones. Chase charges right beside me and seems to have picked the enormous one running with mine. I run my pony right between the two buffalo, which finally gets them to veer off. I try to keep the beast on my left side, as I lean forward, way down on my pony, with bow ready. I only have one shot. I release my ash bow with a stinging snap to my forearm. My pony is trained to instantly veer right in such a jerking motion that it’s difficult to stay on. In defense, the wounded animal strikes back at us and tries to reach us with its horns, but my pony carries me safely away from the angry beast. I watch from a distance as the animal slows and finally falls, breathing heavily.
The excitement of my first buffalo kill is interrupted by a gunshot. I turn my head to see Chase’s horse still running alongside the other beast. I yell, “Turn away!” in my language, but he doesn’t understand. The wounded buffalo twists its body and rams its enormous head into the horse’s side. The horse gives a screeching cry and rears, throwing Chase to the ground. He falls back, hitting his head hard, and doesn’t try to get up. As soon as it tries to use its gored front legs, the horse falls to the ground near him. I ride quickly toward him but stay a short distance away as the massive, bloody beast still stands right over the sleeping paleface. I bring my bow up in case the beast tries to charge and watch, holding my breath, as Chase opens his eyes. He stirs slightly, and the hovering beast, enraged by the pain, paws the ground and snorts at the movement. If Chase tries to get up now, the dying buffalo will run his horns clear through him, and my arrow may not stop it in time.
I yell, “Be still!” Hoping he has learned that word.
He does indeed stay still, and the hairy beast starts to shake, its legs buckling, red froth streaming from its nose and mouth. The animal falls, and I shut my eyes as it collapses toward where the paleface lies. When I reopen them, the buffalo’s head is right beside Chase’s. I fly to him and get off my horse to see if he needs help. His eyes look dazed, but when he sits up and sees how close the head is, he whistles in amazement. The trapper then goes over to his dying horse, takes out his gun, reloads and, with a pained look, shoots the beautiful horse between the eyes. He walks back over to me and motions, asking if he can get on my horse. I nod. We head back to camp to get our packhorses. Chase bows his head in unspoken thanks and goes to get his other horse.
I ride to mother and call out, “Get your fleshing knife, Winona. I have killed one!” She squeals in delight and runs to get the travois that we drag behind our ponies.
I take her to the buffalo I felled and, running her hands through my hair, she says, “My great hunter.” I watch as she makes her first long cut, reaches in with her knife and removes the entrails. She wraps them in deerskin and hands them to me. “Lunch.” She gives me a proud smile.
I leave her to do her squaw work. This is the busiest time for women since we can only kill what they can cure. Buffalo meat spoils quickly and needs to be dried in the sun. I see that the buffalo killed by the white man is being butchered by one of the widows and her daughters. He must have given his kill to them.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Back at the camp, the men sit at leisure, eating the finest cuts as small childre
n run around, wild without their mothers. Hanska comes over and sits beside me. He holds up three fingers with a smug grin on his face. Then says, unnecessarily, “I got three.”
“I got one.” I mimic him by waiving my index finger in front of his face.
He gives me an unimpressed look. “One is a good start.” He points behind him. “Otaktay killed twelve.”
“Twelve?” I can’t imagine killing that many in such short time. By the time I was finished watching Chase get thrown, the herd had scattered.
“Good he has five wives.” He laughs. “Otaktay is Mika’s father.”
“Mika’s?” My eyes widen. “No pressure then.”
He laughs. “That is what Chayton was saying, that he is hard to impress.”
Someone comes and sits beside me, and I’m surprised to see Chase there. Hanska immediately becomes rigid. Reynard sits next to him, carrying meat they have cooked over the fire. I offer him some of my entrails, which are much more delicious than tough meat. He shakes his head quickly, holding his hand out. “No, thank you.”
Reynard begins. “Chase wants to thank you for watching over him when he fell.”
I nod. “He needs a Lakota hunting horse.”
Reynard laughs and translates Chase’s reply. “That might be a good idea.”
Reynard adds, “Chase would like to speak to your chief to tell him of your bravery.”
Hanska immediately replies, “No, that is for Council Lodge after our raiding parties. He needs to earn it there.”
Chase sits back with his hands up and says something that Reynard translates, “He means no offence. He only wanted to help him.”
Reynard unbuttons his long sleeves and rolls them up his arms, revealing a long scar. I point to it as he takes the meat up to his mouth and the juices spill down both sides of his face. He wipes them away, chews, and then says, “I got that from a Huron. I came out with two other men before this area was even seen by my kind. A war party attacked us and, luckily, our guns held the group off long enough for us to seek refuge with your tribe.” He rubs the scar. “But one of them charged me with his lance.” He laughs to himself. “Shot him right in the face though.”
Otaktay comes and sits beside Reynard, laying a hand on the noticable brown mark above his knee. Hanska suddenly becomes inflated. Otaktay gives us a quick look but then talks to Reynard. “I hear you are my biggest competition.”
He gives him a hearty slap on the back, which makes Reynard cough up his meat. After clearing his mouth and swallowing, Reynard replies, “My nine in no way compares to your twelve.”
Hanska jumps in. “I killed three.”
But Otaktay talks over him. “Nine for a paleface is like twelve for a Lakota.”
“My friend here would’ve gotten the same if he hadn’t been thrown when his horse was gored.”
Otaktay perks up. “Oh, he is a good hunter then?”
“One of the best around here. Brings in more furs than any other trader—besides me of course.” Chase laughs, and Reynard shakes his head.
Reynard translates, “No, he says he’s better than me.”
Hanska, not being able to bear the scene, gets up haughtily and stomps away. Otaktay takes notice and laughs. “He has been watching Mika, but whoever pays the most will win her from me.”
Chase speaks as Reynard translates. “How much would you want for her?”
Otaktay snickers as his amber eyes dance. “There is no price on the prettiest girl in the village. It is only what the richest man will pay for her.”
Paytah sits beside me and says, with a smile, “I heard you got one, Kohana.”
I nod happily. “How many did you get?”
“One as well.” He seems slightly embarrassed.
I see over his slouched form that the women return to camp with their meat and skins packed high. The ponies struggle for every step. Wakinyan and her mother pull their ponies in. As soon as they get to their teepee, they begin hanging the meat on poles. After that is done, she and her mother stretch each hide between stakes. I laugh at how she keeps blowing her disheveled hair out of her eyes. When the women finish, they come back over to us, bringing us the most tender cuts of cooked meat. The men all feast first and the women and children after.
The tom-toms begin to drum, and the hunters get up to do the buffalo dance. The sun sets over the brown hills, far off across the golden plain. The women do their dance of small shuffles and sweeping arm movements. Then the children get up with the happy sound of the flute, and the men move to the slow tom-tom beat. I move closer and closer to dance next to Wakinyan. As soon as she sees me, she smiles and spins so fast her braids twirl out dangerously.
The song is over too fast. The early chill sets upon us at night, causing many to fetch blankets from their teepees. Weayaya looks up to the clear starry sky and says, “Winter will come fast.”
Apawi sits with his hands full of meat and screams, “There’s nothing to eat! We are all going to starve!”
I turn to my mother, who is next to me, my brother curled up, asleep, in her lap. “Why is he saying that while we have so much to eat?”
“Apawi’s here to always remind us that in times of great plenty, there is great hardship around the bend.”
The next ten days are spent chasing buffalo. We need to get as many as we can before the first snow. Every day I improve and learn how to get two kills before the herd scatters. Chase proves indeed to be a great hunter and, after trading for a hunting pony, he manages to kill twelve in one day, getting Otaktay’s attention. Every hunter has to share part of his kills with those in the tribe who have no hunters. Chase and Reynard gift theirs to the needy and quickly become everyone’s friends.
After all the dried meat is mixed with tallow and stored for the winter, Weayaya gives the signal that we have to break back into smaller camps and move to our wintering spots. It’s hard to see Wakinyan go, and I know with the coming of the deep snow I won’t be able to visit her. Hanska is even more nervous since Mika will be in the same camp with Chase and could very well come back in the spring his wife.
Chapter 8
Winter comes, and with it, deep snow. Since we try to save our buffalo stores for times when we can’t find any game, I have to go out every day with snowshoes, trying to catch what I can. Every once in a while I shoot a rabbit, but by the time the snow begins to melt we’re close to starvation. We move back to our summer camp when the snow melts in the month When Geese Return and wait for Weayaya to tell us when to begin the preparations for the Sundance ceremony. I can’t contain my excitement since all of the camps gather to celebrate, and I will get to see Wakinyan for days. I wake up every day hoping Weayaya will announce the ceremony, and finally he nods and sends our fastest ponies in the four directions to bring the camps together.
I sit with Hanska by the edge of camp, and we both know who the other is looking for. He looks up and says, “Chances are Mika was married during the winter.”
I immediately worry that Wakinyan could’ve been too. Thinking about that, I don’t reply.
“I have five good ponies to trade with her father, and he would be a fool not to accept my offer.”
I push him even further. “I bet the paleface has her. His whole teepee was full of valuable things that we can’t get unless we go to the trading posts.”
Hanska grits his teeth and throws his knife at the cottonwood beside us, and it sinks into the green wood. People on horseback flow over the knoll like a sudden waterfall. Everyone rides or walks beside their horses. Small children are tied onto horses so they can’t fall off. Women pull their ponies, packed high, and drag their teepees in travoises behind them. Warriors run ahead, giving excited cries, and old men and women, wrapped in blankets even though there is no chill in the air, follow behind on slower ponies. Instantly, I recognize her shape from where I stand. She slowly rides her favorite pony beside her mother. I’m relieved there is no eagle feather in her hair. Hanska yelps, and I glance toward where he stare
s and see Mika up in front behind the warriors, riding one of the finest horses, with her eagle feather still in her hair. I wonder why she was not taken yet.
Hanska claps his strong hands together. “I am going to ask her father tonight.”
As they draw closer, I pretend to busy myself with making arrows, so I won’t seem too interested. When half of their tribe arrives and sets up camp to the south, the stars appear on the horizon. There is a great feeling when all of our relatives come together in one place for celebration after a hard winter. The buzz of happiness fills the air, and smiling faces are everywhere. I keep busy, watching Wakinyan and her mother put up their teepee. As soon as her mother leaves to speak with the other squaws, I decide to walk by her. She stays quiet as I pass, and I pretend to suddenly see her.
“Wakinyan?” I squint as though I barely recognize her, and she smiles, possibly believing my act. “You look different.”
She has grown much over the winter. Her face has lost its childish roundness, and her body changed from its straight shape to ripple out in interesting ways.
“You still look the same.” She laughs like it’s an insult, and I become instantly worried.
I settle next to her on the pile of blankets she’s sitting on, and I catch her checking for where her mother is. I take out my flint rock and rub my fingers over it nervously. The flint pops out of my hand and lands between us. When I go to grab it, she shoves me out of the way and grabs it up, giggling.
“Give that to me.” I hold my hand out, but she grasps the rock tight to her. “Give it back, or I will have to take it from you.”
She laughs and turns away, tucking herself around the flint. I wrap my arms around her and try to pry her hands open, but she thrashes around so I can’t take it. She then rolls up and runs off through the half-erected teepees, and I quickly follow, enjoying her game. I keep catching flashes of her feathered skirt and almost catch her as she darts around some cottonwoods outside the edge of the teepees. I follow her swishing sound through the underbrush and come out to see her head bobbing in the sea of high, dry, winter grasses. I know I can catch her now.