But now the winds of change had swept across the prairie. It was strange that fate had chosen this band, which seemed least likely of all the People to lead the change. But whether it was by chance or that the gods of the grassland had so decreed, it was happening. There was a difference in the posture of the young men, a straight-backed pride that had not been evident before. The others of the People saw the change, and although they may not have realized what they were seeing, they spoke with respect.
Possibly no one was more affected by this than Hump Ribs. When he had become chief, he was unassuming and quiet, not a well-known warrior. Circumstances had beckoned to Hump Ribs as they had to the Southern band. This had provided the opportunity for his leadership qualities to emerge and grow. In the years since his election, Hump Ribs had changed. Formerly the reluctant leader of a small band, almost embarrassed when he spoke to the Council, he had risen in confidence and in prestige. He was considered a statesman, one of the finest leaders to emerge from the warrior ranks of the People in many generations. There was talk of his fitness for real-chief when the time came to elect. After all, old Many Robes had weathered many winters. Someday, death would end his tenure, and the People would elect a new leader. For several generations the real-chief had been selected from the Northern band, but it was not a requirement. It might easily be that with the rising respect accorded the Southern band, this would be a manner of recognizing an existing shift in political power.
Of course the reflected glory fell on others of the band also. White Buffalo found that there was greater respect for the strength of his medicine. Heads Off, who had been regarded largely with curiosity last season, received a measure of respect, acceptance, and even honor now, He was regarded as one of the subchiefs of the Southern band. Coyote, the amusing buffoon, pretended to be unaffected by all this but secretly reveled in the greater attention to his droll stories and antics. These were exciting times.
The term “Elk-dog Society” seemed to catch on rapidly, and the handful of young warriors who were fortunate enough to ride elk-dogs considered themselves an elite guard. The name, started in jest, was worn proudly by the Elk-dog Society. Quickly it became apparent that there were now two societies in the Southern band, the old Warrior Society and the youthful Elk-dog warriors.
Of course, there was some shaking of heads and clucking of tongues among the elders. Could there be two warrior societies? No one seemed to know. There was an uneasiness in some of the older warriors, yet so far, the elk-dogs had brought only benefits. It was already apparent that elk-dog medicine and buffalo medicine worked well together in the hunt. That had been proven and was already well accepted. But this was anew and different question. In armed conflict, how would elk-dog medicine combine with the old ways? There were many misgivings, yet the effectiveness of the charge into the village by mounted Head Splitters had been awesome.
“But they could have been stopped,” stated Two Pines. “We were caught by surprise. Black Dog and Mouse Roars killed two of them!”
“Ah, but where is Black Dog? Mouse Roars? Dead!” argued another. “Men on foot cannot stop men on elk-dogs!”
“If they had had help,” Two Pines insisted, “it could be done. We were taken by surprise, and that must not happen. Our wolves must be alert.”
“But the elk-dogs move too rapidly!”
“Ah, but we have elk-dogs too!”
The arguments raged on, hindered not at all by the inexperience of the participants. Coyote watched and listened quietly and without comment. Finally, when the opportunity offered, he approached Heads Off.
“Heads Off, your warriors use elk-dogs in battle?”
“Yes. We have talked of this, Uncle. What is it?”
“Yes, I know. What I wish to know, is this… not all your warriors ride elk-dogs and carry spears?”
“Oh, no. We talked of the bowmen, who fight on foot. Then there are those who use”—he paused, searching for a word—“a… sort of long knife.”
“On an elk-dog?”
“Well, sometimes. Sometimes on foot. Others use a very long spear, on foot.”
“I see… then there are several warrior societies?”
“I… I guess so. Yes, warrior societies. Why?”
“Ah, the men talk. About the Elk-dog Society, you know. It seems like a new warrior society. But there is still the old one. So, can there he two?” He chuckled.
Heads Off laughed.
“Why not? My tribe calls them lancers, bowmen, pikemen, swordsmen.”
“It is good,” decided Coyote. “We have Warrior Society and Elk-dog Society.”
Coyote giggled again, and Heads Off nodded.
“Yes, they are already called that,” he agreed.
The entire concept of elk-dogs for the hunt and for battle was so broad, so far-reaching, that it was hard for the mind to grasp. White Buffalo was only now beginning to understand the importance, the why of his elk-dog vision so long ago. The use of the elk-dog, he now realized, was to be the greatest change in the ways of the People in his entire lifetime. Maybe even, the holy man was beginning to see, the greatest change since the People came through the log. It had been difficult for him to accept at first, and it was still a thing of wonder. White Buffalo had thought that he had reached the height of his powers, his medicine-gift. He had even thought himself on the way down, but now, aiee, this might be only the beginning. These were exciting times as the winds of change swept the grassland, opening a new way of life—and perhaps of death.
When the Sun Dance finished this season, the Southern or Elk-dog band, had grown again, by ten more lodges.
The marriage of Tall One to Heads Off took place in the autumn of that year, in the Moon of Falling Leaves. The holy man noticed that since the Sun Dance—no, even before that—there had been no talk of Heads Offs departure.
“He speaks no more of it,” Coyote explained. “I will not ask him. He talks only of marriage.”
It was apparent to everyone that this was a devoted couple. They spent much time together, walking beside a clear stream or sitting on a hilltop. They watched the hawks circling high above on fixed wings, riding the invisible currents of the wind. This special courtship was a source of pride and pleasure to the band. It was romantic, the manner in which Heads Off had helped to rescue his intended bride from the Head Splitters. The story grew with the telling, becoming even more romantic. In an odd way, this courtship increased the prestige of the outsider. Heads Off, largely due to circumstances, was following custom. By example, then, he was becoming one of the group, the People—even more specifically, a respected member of the Southern band.
Normally, when a young couple decided to marry, they would first live in the lodge of the bride’s mother until they could set up their own lodge. However, the women had decided, possibly at the suggestion of Coyote, that an honored warrior such as Heads Off should have a lodge. After all, it was due to his elk-dog medicine that materials were available. The summer was spent in dressing and sewing skins for a lodge cover befitting the dwelling of an important couple.
It was also in this season that the People realized that a lodge could be much larger than before. Prior to the elk-dog, the size of a dwelling was limited to how many skins could be handled and moved by three or four people. Transportation of a lodge on a pole-drag was likewise limited to the strength of people and dogs.
Now the limiting factor was the strength of the elk-dog. Many skins were available, and with materials and the ability to transport… aiee! How large could a lodge be? There was a joke that the limit would be found in the availability of lodge poles. Long poles were at a premium and were traded as a precious commodity. The size of one’s lodge, of course, reflected the hunting skill of the owner, his ability to obtain larger numbers of skins.
All of this influenced the construction of the lodge of Heads Off and Tall One. Possibly he was unaware of it to some extent. Finally, in time for the ceremonial nuptials, the lodge was finished and was set up f
or the first time. The band was already in winter camp, in one of their favorite areas where the grassland meets the scrub oak.
The ceremony was carried out in front of the lodge of Tall One’s parents, with many friends, relatives, and well-wishers in attendance. Coyote, trying his best to retain his dignity, performed the ceremonial prayers for the happiness ness of the couple. The two knelt side-by-side before the symbolic fire of their union, and Coyote dramatically drew a robe around the shoulders of the two.
They rose, the robe still covering the new couple as they made their way past smiling faces to their own lodge. Inside, the first fire of their new home was burning; there was food and the bed of soft robes opposite the doorway. The doorskin fell silently into place behind them, and the People dispersed to their own lodges. Their hearts were good, for the happiness of these two.
42
It was no surprise to the Southern band when the news spread that Tall One, daughter of Coyote and wife of Heads Off, was pregnant. In fact, it had become something of a joke, the preoccupation of this young couple with each other and with their privacy.
The young elk-dog men, during the warm days of late fall and early winter, would have some question about the elk-dogs but could not find Heads Off to ask.
“Let him alone,” advised Long Elk. “They are in their lodge.”
Aiee, “one answered, “he has not been out of that lodge since the Moon of Falling Leaves!”
“Think about it,” suggested Standing Bird. “Would you have left that lodge?”
There was general laughter, the ribald amusement that reflected a certain envy. Tall One was certainly one of the most beautiful women. Her lithe grace and shapely form could be expected to arouse the imagination of young men. Fantasies could not even begin to approach the reality of a winter in the warm and loving lodge of Tall One.
“It is true,” agreed the questioner. “Let him alone.”
There was laughter again.
By the Moon of Greening, Tall One was showing her enlarging belly. Her buckskin dress now appeared smooth and taut around the waist. There was much speculation among the People. What would be the appearance of the child? Would it bear fur upon the face, like that of Heads Off?
The newcomer had by this time settled into the ways of the People quite comfortably for the most part. His dress, the trim and plait of his hair—everything indicated that he belonged, except for the facial fur. That remained the mark of an outsider. The men of the People, of course, possessed some facial hair. It was thin and scanty, and at the onset of puberty, the emerging hairs were plucked as a part of increased interest in one’s appearance. Heads Off had actually considered such grooming and with Coyote’s help had experimented. However, one session with the clam-shell tweezers proved adequate to dissuade the continuance of such a project. In half an afternoon, only a patchy bare spot resulted on one cheek.
“This is not good, my friend,” Heads Off had protested. “I know now why this custom is not found among my people.”
Coyote giggled.
“It would be a great test of manhood,” he teased.
“There are other ways to test manhood, Uncle,” Heads Off protested again. “Follow your customs in most things I will, but aiee, my face is sore!”
“It is true,” Coyote had concluded. “The face-plucking is not for those with heavy fur.”
So it was decided. The hair-faced outsider did not attempt to pluck his face, and this was easily accepted. He was respected for his willingness to follow the customs of the People in most other ways. The current situation provided an amusing diversion with many jokes and questions. Some of the inveterate gamblers were already quietly betting on whether the upcoming offspring would bear facial fur.
However, first things must come first. The birth was expected no sooner than the Moon of Ripening. First the band must travel to the Sun Dance, which would be held on the Walnut River this season. But even before that, an odd incident occurred which cast a suspicious shadow over events to come.
The spring hunt was excellent, and every lodge was well supplied. Perhaps the outstanding successes of the year for the Southern band influenced the chief’s decision about the day of the move. Surely, any leader would anticipate the honor and prestige that would go with such a year. Therefore, it may have been that Hump Ribs called for the move a bit early.
The usual protest arose from the women. They couldn’t possibly be ready in three days. The meat from the recent kill was not yet prepared. Even while they protested, they started preparations for the move.
Big-Footed Woman was among the most vocal of the protesters. It was foolish, she scolded, to think that all the fat from the recent kills could possibly be cooked down properly in so short a time. Mere men, even chiefs, could not understand such a problem. Just because times were now improved was no cause to become wasteful. Good food had never been wasted by the People, even in times of plenty. She, for one, would never leave meat on the prairie to rot. She had no intention, she continued, of leaving this campsite until her work was done. The men wisely refrained from argument.
In fact, it was noted that both Coyote and Heads Off scrupulously avoided their wives after the striking and packing of the lodges. It seemed advisable to avoid contact, where possible, with the sharp tongue of the irate Big-Footed Woman. Let her vent her wrath, and perhaps by day’s end her temper would be cooled somewhat.
By noon, the column was on the move, but it was time to stop for the evening camp before Coyote and Heads Off noticed anything amiss.
“Where is your mother?” Coyote asked Long Elk.
“She stayed behind to finish cooking the fat,” Long Elk answered. “You did not know? She said they would catch up later. Tall One is with her.”
It was immediately apparent that Heads Off was quite upset at this turn of events. He seemed to blame himself, fidgeted and paced, and finally spoke to his father-in-law.
“I go to look for them,” he explained, as he swung up onto the gray mare.
“I go with you,” Long Elk said quickly.
Shadows were growing long over the abandoned campsite, but one fire still burned.
“Mother, we must leave! Please forget the rest of the fat,” Tall One entreated. She had stayed behind to help finish the cooking and to help with the carrying. She had had no idea that her mother would stay this long over her silly grudge.
Actually, Big-Footed Woman hadn’t intended it this way. She would, she thought, let them leave without her. She was certain that the men would come back as soon as their absence was discovered. She would then grudgingly consent to leave, having proved her argument.
But the men had not come. Her anger was rekindled, and her stubborn streak began to manifest itself even more strongly. She would stay here until they did come, she decided.
But that was while the sun still shone. Now the darkness was falling, and the whole thing began to seem a little foolish. Maybe they should pack up and travel, she thought. They could follow the trail of the entire band, even in complete darkness. She was about to capitulate and in fact had drawn in her breath to speak when Tall One held up a hand to listen.
Unmistakably, there was a sound of hoof beats. Three or four elk-dogs were approaching at a walk. Both women brightened considerably, and Big-Footed Woman began to plan her scathing remarks for the men. She turned her back and began paying utmost attention to skimming melted grease and spooning it out to cool.
“Here they come,” she murmured, savoring her moment. The horses came closer, to the very edge of the firelight, and stopped. She heard a chuckle, but not until a gasp of surprise and fear came from Tall One did she turn.
There were four men, each sitting on his horse in a relaxed, amused posture. They made no immediate move, merely sat smiling and chuckling. It took a long moment for the significance of the situation to make itself felt to Big-Footed Woman. Somehow her mind was slow to grasp so unexpected a scene. She had been certain that when she turned, she would see her
husband and Heads Off.
But these men were complete strangers. And by their ornaments and weapons, Big-Footed Woman could see that her bull-headed escapade had backfired. These men were not even of the People.
They were Head Splitters.
“Hello, Mother,” signed the oldest of the Head Splitters, apparently the leader. “Is our supper ready?”
Foolishly though she had acted that day, Big-Footed Woman was wise enough not to do anything foolish at that moment. If either of the women rocked the delicately balanced situation, the result might be instant tragedy. As it was, the Head Splitters seemed to be enjoying the game. Their only chance, both women realized, was to play along and stall for time.
“Get down and sit,” signed Big-Footed Woman. “You are early. My husband will be back soon.”
Laughter from the Head Splitters. They could see that the camp was abandoned. They slid from the horses and wandered around the fire, poking at the strips of fat.
“Get away from my cooking,” the woman said irritably, reinforcing her demand with sign language and a gentle shove. “I will say when it is ready!”
More laughter.
It’s working, she thought. We will be safe as long as I can keep them laughing. Maybe the men will come.
Of course, both women knew that their cause was hopeless. They could feed the strangers and for some time possibly dissuade them. Eventually, the Head Splitters would tire of the game and would kill them, probably after raping them. Already the small one with teeth like those of a squirrel was letting his glances rove over the long body of Tall One. The best that might happen would be that they would take her with them instead of killing her outright. Too bad, thought Big-Footed Woman. I did want her to bear the child of Heads Off.
The Changing Wind Page 26