The Changing Wind

by Don Coldsmith

  “We only arrived yesterday,” she explained.

  “Yes, I know. And only last night I heard of your marriage. I wanted to wish you well, both of you.”

  Gradually, the atmosphere warmed as they began to recall incidents from their childhood. Then Crow Woman stopped by, and soon they were laughing together. The intervening years were stripped away, and they were children again, giggling and reveling in the joy of one another’s successes.

  “You wintered with your grandparents?” Stone Breaker asked.

  “Yes.”

  Small Elk was reluctant to reveal the bitterness and jealously with which he had left the band last autumn.

  “I needed some time away,” he explained.

  The others nodded in understanding. It was apparent that for Small Elk, life had not been as kind. Privately, he was just beginning to realize how his jealousy had nearly devoured him from within. Much of his bad luck, it seemed, had been self-inflicted.

  The moment seemed good now, and he related the story of the traveler’s visit, when he learned of Stone Breaker’s marriage.

  “He did not know the name of your wife,” he finished, “and I thought it was Crow Woman. I was very jealous.”

  “You thought… aiee, Elk, it is no wonder you avoided me yesterday!”

  Stone Breaker collapsed into laughter.

  “When did you learn?” Cattail asked.

  “Only last night. I encountered Crow Woman while we were gathering wood. She did not seem very pregnant, so…well, then she told me.”

  Now all four were laughing. Finally, Stone Breaker paused, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

  “Ah, my friends, we have been apart too long. Now, when will you two be married?”

  There was a moment of embarrassed confusion. Crow Woman blushed becomingly, but did nothing to help Small Elk answer.

  “I… we… ah… there has not been time to talk of it,” he mumbled.

  “Of course!” Stone Breaker broke into laughter again. “Last night!”

  Maybe a trifle too much laughter, Small Elk thought. Maybe he had been rejected by Crow Woman. No matter, now. Stone Breaker and Cattail obviously had a good marriage and were pleased and proud about the pregnancy.

  “We will talk of these things,” said Crow Woman, relieving some of the pressure that Small Elk was feeling.

  The others nodded.

  “I will speak with my father, also,” Small Elk explained. “I have not seen him since last season.”

  “About your marriage?” Stone Breaker asked, puzzled.

  “No, no. I may take a vision quest.”

  “Yes, you should do that first,” advised Stone Breaker.

  The women laughed.

  “No, I—”

  “We understand, Stone Breaker,” Crow Woman said, teasing. “You have hardly been out of your lodge since last fall!”

  “Will you follow your father’s medicine?” asked Stone Breaker, attempting to change the subject.

  “I do not know,” Small Elk answered slowly. “I am not sure I have the gift.”

  He had been so preoccupied with his jealousies, he realized now, that he had given little thought to such things. He should be making these decisions. It was quite usual for the son of a holy man to follow his father as an apprentice. However, he must first have the gift, the visionary second sight, to make such a choice. Even then, some who were endowed with the gift refused it, unwilling to accept the responsibility and sacrifice required for such a career. Small Elk’s older brother, Blue Owl, had not chosen such a path. Small Elk was not sure whether it was due to a refusal or whether Blue Owl had not received the gift. One did not ask such things. While it was permissible to ask whether such an apprenticeship was upcoming, the reasons for the decision were quite personal.

  When he was younger, Small Elk had often imagined himself following his father’s footsteps. In recent moons, the past two years, such thoughts had rarely occurred to him. He now regretted the wasted time.

  “It is one of the things that my father can help me with, to find the answers” he explained to the others.

  The next afternoon, Small Elk went to talk to his father. White Buffalo was pleased with the change in his son. He and Dove Woman were not certain what had caused the change, but it was certainly for the better—something that had happened that first night, it seemed, when the Southern band arrived at the camp on Turkey Creek. Elk had spent the morning with his friends, and it was apparent that the reunion had been a happy one. Probably joy over the marriage of Stone Breaker and Cat-Tail, they decided.

  “Father, I would speak with you,” Small Elk began.

  White Buffalo remained silent, waiting.

  “I asked of a vision quest, before,” the young man went on.

  His father only nodded.

  “I was not ready, then. You told me, but I did not believe. Now I know I was not ready, but maybe I am now.”

  “Maybe,” answered the medicine man cautiously. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, I… after the Sun Dance, of course… Crow Woman and I have spoken of marriage. But would it not be better to take the vision quest first?”

  “Probably.” White Buffalo’s eyes twinkled. This was going well. “But, I am made to feel there is more?” he asked.

  “Maybe so,” Small Elk said cautiously. “I have wondered, Father. Do you suppose I might have the gift of medicine?”

  Aiee, thought White Buffalo, of course you have, my son, but you must discover it for yourself

  “Why do you ask this?” he said aloud, trying to control his elation.

  “No reason, but I wondered how one finds out such things.”

  “Oh. Well, no one can tell you that, my son. You must seek it.”

  “How?”

  “There are many ways. Start to mention it in your Sun-Dance prayers. Ask for the gift, if you wish. That could do no harm. But, only if you wish it.”

  “I… I am not sure, Father.”

  White Buffalo nodded in understanding.

  “Then what do you wish, that you are sure about?”

  “I wish to marry Crow Woman, and to go on a vision quest.”

  “Ah, you are answering your own questions. Your vision quest may answer your doubts about the gift. But it might be difficult to think in the right spirit of the quest with a new wife at home.” It would be hard enough, he added to himself, to concentrate on anything, with a new wife like young Crow Woman waiting for one’s return. No, it would be better to postpone that distraction.

  “Your quest should be first,” he suggested. “It may provide some other answers. When you return, then you will be better able to plan.”

  “And the marriage?” Small Elk asked.

  “It is good, Elk. But, you should wait. Wait until your vision quest is behind you. Who knows? Maybe the quest will help you decide when it should take place.”

  Small Elk nodded, looking a trifle disappointed.

  “But before that, even,” his father was saying, “comes the Sun Dance.”

  13

  The Eastern band straggled in, almost on the appropriate day, in their usual state of disorder and disarray. The time-honored jokes were exchanged about the ineptness of the Eastern band. This opportunity for wry humor at the expense of one group was never overlooked. If anyone of another band made a mistake or suffered any accident or misfortune, someone was sure to comment on it.

  “It is to be expected. His grandmother was of the Eastern band.”

  The origin of this good-natured ridicule was lost in antiquity but seemed to be self-perpetuating. Some of the members of that band even seemed to revel in the reputation and to behave foolishly just to produce laughs. And people with a more serious approach to life may have transferred their loyalties and their families to other bands through the generations, leaving the reputation of the Eastern band more accurate each season.

  With the arrival of the last band, it was time to begin the announcement of the Sun Dance. F
or three days, the keeper of the Sun Doll danced ceremonially around the entire encampment, chanting his announcement to the People. Three circuits each morning he traveled, ending each time in the Sun-Dance lodge. Meanwhile, the medicine men from each band had tied their respective medicine bundles in place around the sides of the lodge. Excitement was building.

  The Sun Dance proper would continue day and night for seven days. Exhausted dancers would drop out, and others would take their places. Those who beat the drums also traded off for a half-day’s sleep, to return later. The throb of the drums and the chanting were continuous.

  Dancers placed carefully planned sacrifices before the buffalo effigy—a well-tanned robe, a choice otter skin, or a perfectly fletched and painted arrow; medicine sticks, carved, painted, and decorated with fur and feathers. One man sacrificed a favorite bow with which he had found spectacular success at the hunt in an effusion of thanksgiving.

  There were also prayers of thanksgiving for the return of the sun after the long, dark nights of winter, when Sun Boy’s torch had nearly gone out. There were also prayers that involved pledges and promises of patriotism, sometimes mixed with supplication. One might publicly pledge a specific sacrifice at the next Sun Dance in return for good health or good hunting this season. The aged and infirm attempted to dance and sing the chants of supplication for healing. As the excitement of the dance stirred their blood, arthritic old limbs actually seemed to take on a new and youthful vigor.

  Small Elk participated, of course, with prayerful chants of thanks for his good fortune. He had nothing to sacrifice but pledged to do so when he was able. His supplication was that he be helped with his vision quest and with the decisions ahead. He also mentioned good health for himself, his family, and his intended wife.

  It was not before the third day of the dance that Elk found occasion to talk with his father again. White Buffalo, occupied with his ceremonial responsibilities, finally decided that things were going well enough for him to take an interval of rest. He slept for part of an afternoon, ate sparingly, and drank deeply. When the medicine man stepped out to return to the Sun-Dance lodge, he encountered his son.

  “Ah-koh, Father.”

  “Ah-koh, my son. You did well at the dance lodge. It brought me pride.”

  “Thank you, Father. But I must talk with you. When the Dance is over maybe?”

  White Buffalo shrugged and spread his palms, secretly delighted at this overture.

  “Of course, Elk. Why not now?”

  They walked together, a little way from the camp, away from the clamor of drums and chanting.

  “Yes, my son?”

  “Father, you know that I… Crow Woman and I… we wish to marry!” he finally blurted.

  “Yes… you have talked with her parents?”

  “No, but I think they will agree.”

  “Probably,” White Buffalo observed. He was actually quite certain. He and Dove Woman had already discussed the matter, and the two mothers of the couple had long hoped for this.

  “But I also wish to take my vision quest, as we spoke before.”

  White Buffalo nodded understandingly. “It is good. Do that first.”

  “There is more. Do you think I might have the gift of spirit, to follow you?”

  White Buffalo’s heart leapt for joy. He managed to control his delight, for such a decision must not be based on the wishes of others.

  “Maybe,” he said calmly. “Your vision quest should tell.”

  Then he saw the young man’s dilemma. Elk was afraid that his thoughts of the coming marriage would interfere with the spiritual nature of his quest. It was something to consider. It would be possible to marry now and seek his vision next year. But no, that would postpone the decision about his career. Not only that, but by that time there might be the distractions of a family. And the longer the quest was postponed, the more difficult it would be. He took a long breath.

  “My son,” he said slowly, “my heart tells me that the sooner you seek the visions, the better. I will cast the bones, but I am already sure.”

  “As soon as the Sun Dance is over?” Small Elk asked.

  “Yes! Have you thought where you will go?”

  “Some. There is a hill above Sycamore Creek, above the place we camp sometimes.”

  “Yes, I know the place. You knew we are to camp there this year?”

  “No! I had not heard. It is good!”

  Elk paused a few moments, then spoke again. “Father, I could leave tomorrow, to go and begin my fast. When you arrive there for the summer camp, I will already have my quest behind me.”

  White Buffalo considered that proposal. Yes, that would give the boy time alone to think. It would be dangerous … alee, a vision quest always held a certain amount of danger, Alone on the prairie… but that was the purpose, to be alone, to experience the things of the spirit. Elk would arrive in the selected area a few sleeps before the rest of the band and would be undisturbed. He had proved himself able to travel alone last season.

  “Yes,” the medicine man agreed. “Yes, Elk, I think maybe this is good. Then, when we arrive, you will be ready to begin whatever your heart tells you. When will you start?”

  Small Elk shrugged. “Tomorrow?”

  “Good! Now go, make your preparations. I must go back to the Dance now.”

  “Your vision quest? Now?” Crow Woman’s eyes were wide with wonder. “We have just found each other again,” she protested.

  “This is one reason why,” he told her. “It will help me know what I must do, and we can be together sooner.”

  “Yes,” she agreed reluctantly, “but I wish I could go with you.”

  “But then it would not be a vision quest,” he reminded her playfully.

  “I know.”

  She snuggled against him, her body warm in the cool prairie twilight. “Elk, when you return, I will be waiting.”

  “Good,” he agreed. “Then we will start another quest, we two, together.”

  She smiled at him in the gathering dusk. “You start tomorrow?”

  “Yes. At daylight. Have you told your parents? About us, I mean?”

  “A little. Only that you thought I was married to Stone Breaker.”

  They laughed together quietly.

  “Not that I was pleased to be wrong?” he teased.

  “Well, yes, that too.”

  “Good! Then they will not be surprised!”

  “You will talk with them now?”

  “No, not until after my quest. I must keep my spirit free to receive the visions.”

  She nodded, understanding.

  “My heart will be with you,” she said.

  Dove Woman again protested a lone journey of this type, but not so long or so strongly. He had proved his ability already, and she knew she could not keep him a child forever.

  “Take care, my son,” she told him as she wrapped a small pack of dried meat and a little pemmican for his journey. “If the weather is hot, eat the pemmican first, before it becomes bitter. Save something to eat when your fast is over.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he answered her, smiling. “I know this.”

  “I know you do, but mothers say such things. It is our privilege.”

  She hugged him and smiled, pretending that the tears were not welling up. Aiee, her youngest, on his vision quest! It seemed only yesterday he was a babe at her breast.

  She watched him until his long strides carried him to the crest of the little rise. The rays of the rising sun struck his face as he turned to wave, then crossed over.

  Dove Woman turned back toward her lodge. I have never noticed before, she thought, how much Small Elk walks like his father. From beyond the lodges, the rhythmic cadence of the drums and the chanting went on.

  14

  Small Elk sat by his fire, uncertain what to expect. From time to time, he felt the sharp spasm of a hunger pang. Sometimes his belly rumbled loudly in protest against the indignity of emptiness. This was a disappointment. He did n
ot know how a fast was supposed to proceed, but surely there must be more to it than this.

  He had reached the hilltop on a pleasant evening a little before dark. There had been time to gather fuel and to establish his camp. He broke a stick of dried meat in half and chewed one portion while he gathered wood. He would begin his fast immediately after lighting his fire. That was always an important step, the symbolic lighting of the fire. He used rubbing sticks, the yucca spindle whirling in the little depression of the fireboard as he drew the bow back and forth. Smoke began to pour forth, and a black powdery ash gathered below the notch in the flat board. Soon smoke seemed to be issuing from the little pile of powder itself. Elk laid aside the sticks and the firebow, and picked up the precious spark on its tuft of shredded cedar bark. Carefully, he breathed on the spark, watching it glow and recede with each breath. Smoke became more dense, pouring from the tinder. He blew a trifle harder. He was ready when the cedar bark burst into flame, and he thrust the blazing tuft into a little opening in the pile of sticks he had prepared. The smallest sticks began to ignite, and the yellow tongues licked upward, the fire growing rapidly. He added a few larger sticks and sat back to chant the Song of Fire.

  It was a time-honored ceremony, this song, performed as a ritual whenever a new fire was kindled. It was in two parts, the first a prayer of thanks for the gift of fire. The second, perhaps more pertinent to each new fire, was a statement. “Here,” it said, “I. intend to camp. The fire indicates my intention to live here a little while.” The fire was a public gesture to whatever spirits might live in this place, a request for permission to stay here, and a marker of the site. Ceremoniously, he placed the other half of his stick of dried meat on the fire to appease the spirits of the place.

  Small Elk finished the ritual and spread his robe to prepare for the night. There would be little sleep; he was too excited. He was actually beginning his vision quest, that most important of lifetime experiences. How could one sleep?

  That had been a day ago. Nothing had happened, except that he was hungry, and his belly was growling aloud in protest. He was bored. Since his Song for Morning, there had been very little to do. He had watched a circling hawk for a while, and observed a band of antelope on a distant hilltop. He assembled a supply of firewood and a stack of chips of buffalo dung, which would burn slowly and long, with little flame.