The Travelers 1

by Lee Hunnicutt

  Of the old men, Whistling Elk was the only one not nodding and going “Hmmmm.” He was sitting perfectly still in deep thought, looking past Tall Boy.

  Whistling Elk’s silence and fixed stare made Tall Boy nervous. He looked back over his shoulder to see what his grandfather was looking at and saw nothing. He looked back at his grandfather to see the old man stand up, turn and walk into his teepee.

  When Whistling Elk emerged from the tent, he was in what can best be described as dress buckskins. His shirt had beautiful bead and quill work. His leggings were fringed and his moccasins were covered in equally beautiful beadwork. His hair was combed and hung past his shoulders. His forehead had two horizontal parallel black lines. He had a red line on each cheek and a blue line running vertically from his bottom lip down the middle of his chin. In his left hand he carried his coup stick. The stick was about six and a half feet long and was covered from top to bottom with feathers. Each feather represented a coup. In his youth, Whistling Elk was a great warrior. In his right hand was a shorter stick about four feet long. On the end of this stick was his medicine bag.

  This medicine bag was not filled with curative herbs. It was not what white men considered medicine. It was a bag of things that Whistling Elk had put together. Among other things there was a bear claw because bears were the most powerful of the predators and were respected by all of the tribes as having powerful medicine. They were things he considered to have great magic.

  The old men and Tall Boy were still outside of his tent waiting to see what Whistling Elk was going to do. When Whistling Elk stepped out of his tent and they saw what he was wearing the old men grunted. Tall Boy was awed. He had only seen his grandfather wear this dress at special ceremonies and times when great magic was called for.

  Whistling Elk looked neither left nor right but strode out in the direction that Tall Boy had come. He was intent on meeting the three white children before they entered the village.

  The old men and Tall Boy got to their feet and followed Whistling Elk.

  As he walked, Whistling Elk’s was thinking. Communing with animals was nothing new to the Cheyenne or any of the plains Indians. In his dreams Whistling Elk had spoken to animals many times. Cheyenne lore was full of accounts of men and women not only speaking with animals but of taking on animal form. When the buffalo were hard to find and the tribe was in dire need, Whistling Elk had dreamed and talked to the old buffalo cow. She told him where to find the herd. But he had never walked up to a buffalo bull in broad daylight and placed his hand between the buffalo’s horns and then scratched the bull behind the ear.

  He knew hunters that were so stealthy that they could sneak up on a deer and reach out and touch the deer. Although that required great skill as a hunter it was not the same thing as Tall Boy had told him that Yellow Boy had done. He had heard of a Sioux that had an eagle that would sit on his arm. When Whistling Elk heard of this Sioux, he had thought “You can train a horse. You can train a dog. Why not train an eagle?” Again this was not the same as what Yellow Boy had done.

  Whistling Elk also knew that the spirits often played tricks on men and that these tricks were often fatal. Had these white spirit children come to play a trick on him and his tribe? He knew that they possessed powerful medicine. Were they going to use this medicine against him and his tribe? He had to find out.

  He carried his coup stick so that the spirits could see that he was a warrior to be reckoned with and he carried his medicine bag to guard him against their magic. Besides the bear claw he had an eagle’s beak, some magic herbs, a small metallic rock. His most powerful piece was an arrowhead. In a battle against the Ute, he was shot in the chest by a Ute warrior. The arrow had lodged in his breastbone over his heart.

  When the battle was over, he couldn’t pull the arrow out. One of the other warriors had to carve the arrow point out of his breastbone with a knife. That night he had placed the arrowhead, still blood stained in his medicine pouch.

  By the time Whistling Elk had reached the edge of the village, most of the tribe were at his heels. Stone Fist, Beth, Sonny and Jack were about two hundred yards away riding towards the village.

  Whistling Elk turned and faced the villagers and told them not to follow him. He then turned and walked towards the four children.

  The children saw Whistling Elk approaching them and all of the tribe waiting by the edge of the village and thought “What’s going on?” They had never seen Whistling Elk in full fig before. He was a very impressive figure. He was resplendent in his buckskins and they had never seen his coup stick before. All of those feathers meant a victory in battle and there were one hell of a lot of feathers on that stick. Whistling Elk had achieved the impression that he wanted on the children. It was the impression of a great warrior and of a powerful medicine man.

  He met them half way and threw his hands up and out from his body commanding them to stop. He said, “I want to look upon you and see you for myself.”

  The children knew something was going on and there was a sense of danger in the air. They sat perfectly still and said nothing.

  Whistling Elk walked around them, looking up at them on their horses, inspecting them. He touched Jack on the knee and then he gingerly touched Beth on the knee. He looked at Stone Fist and said, “Go join the tribe.”

  Stone Fist was reluctant to leave. First, the white children were his friends and he didn’t want to leave them if there was going to be trouble and second, he wanted to be close so he could see what was going on. Even if Whistling Elk weren’t dressed in his finest ceremonials he knew just by looking at Whistling Elk that something big was happening and Stone Fist wanted to be part of it. He respected the old man too much to disobey him so reluctantly he rode over to where the rest of the tribe was standing.

  Whistling Elk walked over to Sonny and said, “Dismount.”

  Sonny got off of his horse and stood in front of Whistling Elk.

  Whistling Elk touched Sonny several times with the medicine pouch that was on the end of the stick. He then touched Sonny with his hand. He said to Sonny “Come with me.”

  It appeared to Jack and Beth that the tension that was there was now gone but they also knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  Sonny walked away with Whistling Elk.

  Whistling Elk and Sonny walked a few paces and sat down on the ground facing each other.

  Jack and Beth could see that they were talking but couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Whistling Elk got up and then Sonny got to his feet.

  Whistling Elk called over to Beth and Jack, “Take his horse and follow us.” He and Sonny walked toward the village. Beth and Jack could see that they were both in deep conversation.

  Beth and Jack took the horses back to the remuda and then went looking for Sonny. He was in Whistling Elk’s teepee and the door flap was closed so they and Tall Boy, who had joined them, sat outside and waited.

  They sat there for about an hour when Whistling Elk stuck his head out and told them to come into the tent.

  As required by etiquette, the boys entered first and went to the right of the teepee and Beth entered after the boys and went to the left. There was a small fire going in the center of the tent and good manners demanded that no one pass between the fire and anyone seated around the fire. They all waited for Whistling Elk to ask them to sit. The boys sat cross legged but good etiquette demanded that Beth either sit on her heels or with her legs to one side.

  She didn’t like all of this male/female stuff but when in Cheyenne Country do as the Cheyenne do. In these few short weeks she had come to love her Cheyenne parents and the Cheyenne people. She would do nothing to betray the love and kindness that the Cheyenne had shown her. So if it meant that she had to follow the males into a teepee and sit on the left side of the tent with her legs together then so be it. She didn’t like it but she did it in silence.

  Whistling Elk indicated that they should sit so they
did. Whistling Elk then stoked up his pipe, took a puff and passed it to Sonny. Sonny took a puff and passed it to Tall Boy who did the same and passed it to Jack. Whistling Elk indicated that the pipe was then to be passed over to Beth. She took a puff and passed it back to Jack and it was then passed from boy to boy back to Whistling Elk.

  Once the pipe ceremony was over, Whistling Elk said, “I want you to tell me exactly what you saw when Yellow Boy walked with the deer. When the last of you has spoken, if any of the rest of you remember anything additional, tell it to me.”

  They all told basically the same story but Beth added “I was the closest to Yellow Boy and when he began to walk towards the deer, it surprised me. I looked into his eyes and by the look on his face it seemed to me that he was in another place.”

  Jack and Tall Boy both said, “Yes, that is the way he looked when he walked back to us. He looked as if he were in another place.”

  Whistling Elk said, “I will give this much thought. Thank you for your help.” With that said, he began to clean his pipe. This indicated that the interview was over and that they should leave.

  That night the tribe gathered around a large campfire and after the chiefs and Whistling Elk had smoked Hopping Bear’s pipe, Whistling Elk stood up. All talk ceased. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire.

  Jack noticed once again how Whistling Elk waited until the crowd tension was at its peak before he spoke. By now everyone knew that something extraordinary had happened and they were waiting for Whistling Elk to explain it to them.

  Whistling Elk recounted what had happened to Yellow Boy and the other three children and then he said, “Our people have always been close to the animals, birds, fish and plants. Many of our hunters can call birds and animals right up to them. Some can catch fish with their hands but what Yellow Boy did today is different. He didn’t use stealth and cunning to approach the deer. He didn’t lure the deer close with a rutting call. He walked up to the deer as if he were their brother. They had nothing to fear from him because he is their brother.

  I had advised Two Feathers to wait in naming these children. I told him to wait for a sign or a vision or to name them for their deeds. It appears that I was right in telling him this.

  From now on, Yellow Boy will be called ‘He Who Walks with Deer’.”

  As with the meeting when Two Feathers returned to the tribe, Whistling Elk began to chant and dance around the fire. After he had circle the fire three times, others joined him and soon many from the village were on their feet dancing. This was a good time to celebrate. Hunting had been good this season and one of their tribe had had a mystical experience and had gained his name because of that experience. This was a good omen and spirits were high.

  This was a great occasion and a good time for dancing.

  The next day, as was their practice, the three children went to the riverbank to talk. Jack asked Sonny “What was going through your mind when you did what you did yesterday? How did you feel?”

  “It’s all kinda hazy to me. I remember the buck looking right at me. I don’t remember getting to my feet. I didn’t feel like I was walking. It was like a dream.

  I could see myself through the buck’s eyes. I could see myself walking towards myself, the buck. It is all too confusing, too hard to explain. The next thing I knew the buck had his nose on my chest. I remember scratching him and then walking back to you, Tall Boy, Stone Fist and Beth.

  Oh yes, when the buck put his nose on me it was like a mild electrical shock went through my body.

  Weird huh?”

  “Wow,” said Beth. “Next to going from 1978 to 1870, that was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Me too,” said Jack.

  “The best thing to come out of it is that you now have a cool name. Beth and I will probably be named after Crayons forever.”

  Beth smiled wickedly at Jack and said, “No Jack, after Whistling Elk finds out what kind of pets you had in Panama, he will probably name you ‘One Who Walks with Roaches’.” She was referring to the time when Jack, with the help of Sonny, had put eight or ten large water roaches in a kitchen matchbox and then conned her into opening the box.

  The thought of Jack being given such a name made her giggle.

  Jack flushed and said sarcastically “Well, what’s he going to call you ‘One Who Farts Loudly’ or ‘She Who Picks Her Nose’?”

  Sonny laughed and said, “Jack Roach Walker and his sidekick Farts Loudly. I like that.”

  They passed their time laughing and joking with each other until Tall Boy and Stone Fist showed up and then the five of them set out on a new adventure for the day.

  Every day they spent time on horseback. Every day they practiced with their bows. Sometimes they rode just for the thrill of riding. Other times they rode in mock combat. A warrior rode bareback into battle or used saddles made of buffalo hide stuffed with buffalo hair.

  During the first week in September, they asked two Feathers to go with them into the mountains. They were going to practice shooting the rifles and pistols they took off of Curly Bob and Slim.

  They had found a place that was flat and ran for about a quarter of a mile ending up against a wall of rock. Jack had an old buffalo skin that Falling Moon Woman had given him which he had cut out in the silhouette of a man. In front of the rock wall, he drove two six-foot tree limbs into the ground and strung the silhouette between them. By using the rock wall as a backstop and using their binoculars, it made it easy to spot where the rounds went, making it easy to zero the rifles. They each zeroed in a rifle at three hundred yards.

  They tried to show Two Feathers how to adjust the sights and hit a target at that distance. He was amazed at the ease with which the children could get the bullets to go where they wanted them to go and he was proud of them for being such fine shots. However, he considered it an insult that they would want him to use this weapon in this manner.

  Only a coward would kill an enemy at that range. To him, honorable combat was to close with the enemy and kill him with your war club, lance, knife or your bare hands. Those were the preferable ways to dispatch an enemy. To kill with a bow and arrow was all right but hand to hand combat was the most honorable of combat. A warrior’s real honor came from not killing his opponent but by counting coup. This was done when a warrior simply touched an enemy in combat. This was just a touch, not a blow designed to hurt or kill. You also gained much honor by stealing horses.

  When in combat, you closed with the enemy or if you were stealing horses you did it in his back yard or right in front of his tent. You certainly did not shoot an enemy at such a distance that he looked as small as a doll. He would have nothing to do with it.

  He threw the rifle they had given him to the ground, swung up onto his horse and rode away without a backward glance. The children were dumbfounded. They hadn’t a clue as to what they had done wrong. It worried them that somehow they had insulted Two Feathers and it hurt their feelings.

  At the beginning of the day, they had been very excited because they thought that they would show Two Feathers a skill that they had and pass this skill on to him. But now the wind was out of their sails.

  They had modified the holsters that they had taken off of the Curly Bob, Slim and Dirty Earl to fit them. They fired a few pistol rounds off but their hearts weren’t in it and they were soon on their horses riding back to the village. They rode in stunned silence, depressed.

  About a half mile from the makeshift shooting range, Two Feathers slowed his horse to a walk. He thought about what he had just done. He struck his forehead twice with the heel of his hand and thought about what was really bothering him. “Fool! It’s not their fault that our world is changing. It’s not their fault that the white man keeps coming and coming and that the buffalo herds are thinning.” he thought.

  Except for the advent of the horse, life on the Great Plains had not changed for the Plains Indians for hundreds of years. At first there were just a few white men and the m
uskets that they had were inferior to the bow and arrow. A good bowman could fire off ten arrows for every shot a man with a musket could fire.

  Now the pressure from the white men was tremendous and they had repeating rifles that could shoot incredibly fast and far. The white man was slaughtering the buffalo in great numbers thinning the herds.

  Two Feathers had discussed these changes at great length with Whistling Elk and Hopping Bear. So far they could see no solution. They had tried peace but the white man had broken the peace. There were the massacres at Sand Creek and Washita that now defined their relationship with the white man. The way Two Feathers saw it, they were in a war where no quarter was asked or given. However, it seemed that the more you killed the white man, the more they kept coming. There was no end to them. They were relentless.

  When he got back to the village, he found Falling Moon Woman in front to their teepee softening a buffalo hide. He asked her to go inside so he could talk to her and not be overheard.

  Just outside of the opening of the tent was a pot of buffalo stew cooking over a fire. As Falling Moon Woman past the pot, she took a spoon that was hanging on the one of the sticks that was supporting the pot and gave the stew a stir. She then absent mindedly carried the spoon inside the tent.

  Years ago when Two Feathers had gone to Fort Laramie he had traded furs for that pot and spoon. It had been a surprise gift to his wife. Every time she used them she felt the love that her husband had for her and it reinforced her love for him.

  Inside the tent Two Feathers told her what had happened between him and the children. Falling Moon Woman thought about what he had said for a minute and then, without saying a word whacked him on the upper arm with the spoon. There are no words in Cheyenne for stiffed necked, bonehead but she used the Cheyenne equivalent.

  She said, “Those children try every day to win your praise and to make you proud of them and then you do this to them. Do you think the white settlers and the pony soldiers care about how far away they are from you when they shoot you?”