The Changing Wind

by Don Coldsmith

  Even while her mind was busy with such morose thoughts, her hands were busy with the cooking fire. She chattered on in a combination of talk and sign.

  “Stay back, you’ll kick dirt in my cooking!” she ordered.

  The Head Splitters were enjoying this scene immensely. One of them made an exaggerated move to escape her scolding, and the others rocked with laughter. Big-Footed Woman began to cook some small strips of meat and hand the morsels to the men. She wondered how long she could continue this process. She cooked small portions, only a few at a time, assisted by Tall One, who had thus far been silent.

  Full darkness fell, and the process of cooking and feeding the strangers continued. Tall One kindled a torch and propped it nearby for light. Once the older man impatiently demanded that they cook bigger portions.

  “Mother,” said Tall One finally, “don’t you think that little one looks like a squirrel?”

  Tall One glanced at the little man. Complete absence of any understanding shone on all four faces as they chewed pieces of meat or joked among themselves.

  Her mother nodded. “And the big one is the ugliest I ever saw.”

  The big one in question smiled and nodded.

  “I thought so,” concluded Tall One. “None of them understands a word of the talk of the People. Now I will tell you my idea. I do not intend to go to bed with Squirrel Tooth over there.”

  She smiled at the man again, and he responded with a toothy grin.

  Rapidly, Tall One sketched her plan.

  Her mother nodded. “It is good. Even if it does not work, we may escape in the darkness.”

  Finally it seemed that the nearly insatiable appetites were becoming satisfied. Squirrel Tooth was looking hungrily at Tall One. It was time to make a move. Tall One strolled over to replace the sputtering torch with a fresh one. Instead of propping it for light, she suddenly lifted it high and dashed off into the darkness, the flame bobbing and dancing over her head.

  The Head Splitters leapt to their feet and ran after her, shouting to each other as they ran. Big-Footed Woman quickly picked up a heavy stone war club and slipped into the darkness.

  Tall One ran down the familiar path, counting on her pursuers’ unfamiliarity with the terrain. She looked back, slowing her pace slightly. It was important that the pursuit be as close as possible. The line of flight led straight across a level area with no obstructions, and her long legs kept her barely ahead of the running warriors. She wondered if they thought her stupid to be carrying the torch.

  A hundred paces behind the abandoned lodge site, the level meadow dropped off sharply to the river. The edge was a shelf of stone, jutting out of the earth and ending abruptly. Below lay a tangled pile of jagged pieces broken from the shelf through the centuries and dropped into the stream’s bed.

  Straight for the edge ran Tall One. As she neared the drop, she sprinted faster, pulling slightly away from the runners behind. She waved the torch high, then suddenly flung it ahead of her and dodged quickly to the left, slipping quietly into a clump of bushes. The plan worked perfectly. The men, in full stride, continued to pursue the bobbing, flashing torch as it bounced over the rocks. The two in the lead did not even break stride as they plunged over the edge. It seemed a long time before the dull sounds of their bodies striking rock was heard. The third man, Squirrel Tooth, realized something was wrong just as he reached the ledge. He attempted to save himself but overbalanced and fell, a short exclamation of surprise choked off by the dull thud.

  The fourth man was warned and managed to stop at the edge. He called into the dark, but there was only a low moan in answer. The torch lay far below, flickering in a crevice near the water. He turned to look for the girl, shouting angrily. Tall One hugged the earth and tried not to breathe too heavily.

  “Tall One!” a voice called from the darkness. “Bring the big ugly one back to the fire and let him catch you, almost!”

  The big man turned toward the voice, but the girl jumped up with a frightened squeal and ran back toward the fire, the warrior in hot pursuit. She dodged around, barely staying out of his reach, until she saw from the corner of her vision where her mother was located. Twisting, turning, the agile young woman maneuvered her pursuer into proper position and finally stumbled, sprawling with a little scream.

  The man loomed over her in rage, and his hands reached for the girl. She was glad that he had no weapon. At the last moment, there was a dull thunk, and the Head Splitter slumped forward, falling almost on top of her. Big-Footed Woman brushed the hair back from her face as she hefted the borrowed war club in case another blow was needed. It was not.

  The exhausted women made their way back to the fire. As they built up the blaze, they suddenly heard hoofbeats again, and both slipped warily into the darkness.

  Heads Off and Long Elk rode into the circle of the firelight and paused, calling their names. Big-Footed Woman stepped quickly from hiding.

  “Heads Off! Long Elk! Over here,” she called.

  They returned to the fire.

  “Mother!” shouted Long Elk. “We were very worried!”

  “Oh, we are all right,” she managed to say calmly. “We traded meat to some travelers for four elk-dogs.”

  She pointed to the animals, tied in the shadows.

  Heads Off was irritated. He had been nearly frantic with worry and did not appreciate the light treatment of a near-tragedy.

  “Come on,” he snapped gruffly. “Let us join the rest.”

  “Of course, Heads Off,” answered his wife meekly, “as soon as we finish skimming out the fat.”

  43

  What had shown every promise of being a triumphant, prestigious Sun Dance full of celebration was almost a disaster. It became quickly apparent that with the exception of the Southern band, no one had fared well.

  The Eastern band, of course, rarely fared well. That was assumed to be due to their own foolishness. But the others had suffered too. The Red Rocks, especially, were at a low point in their entire history. They had been attacked more than once by the Head Splitters. The enemy now appeared to be usually mounted, and the frightening impact of an attack by well-armed horsemen was demoralizing.

  Additionally, there had been encounters during travel. These noncombative confrontations, where protocol prevented open hostilities because of danger to families, were quite useful sometimes. It was possible to see whether the enemy had fared well and to observe changes in customs and attitudes. The reports were all the same. The Head Splitters, who were probably of several different bands, had all behaved similarly. They were arrogant, even more than usual. They had many elk-dogs, and they were insolent and threatening.

  One fact stood out above all others, however. At each contact, the Head Splitters had mentioned the same theme. Gray Wolf, who now appeared to be their principal war chief, was looking for blood. The young chief killed by Heads Off in the skirmish the previous year had been the son of Gray Wolf, who had now declared an oath of vengeance against “Hair Face.”

  “I will decorate my shield with that fur,” Gray Wolf had vowed.

  Repeatedly, this message had been relayed to the bands of the People at any encounter. It was causing much consternation and fear. Coyote attempted to put the threat in proper perspective.

  “I have heard it said,” he observed whimsically, “that to use a cat’s fur, it is first necessary to skin the cat.”

  This attempt to lighten the burden of worry fell largely on deaf ears. There was, in fact, some animosity, both toward elk-dogs and toward Heads Off, bringer of the elk-dog.

  “It was not so before the strange beasts,” one old woman babbled. “We should drive them away!”

  “Yes, and the hair-face too,” a man of the Mountain band said quietly. “It is against this outsider that the Head Splitters vow revenge.”

  “Stupid ones!” Big-Footed Woman replied indignantly, “Look for yourselves. Which band among us is strong? Whose children are fat, and their women happy? The Southern band, who have
elk-dogs!”

  “But the Head Splitters…” the old woman insisted.

  “Mother,” said Big Footed Woman gentry but firmly, “All your life the People have feared the Head Splitters. That has nothing to do with elk-dogs!”

  It appeared that a complete rift in the tribal structure was a distinct possibility. White Buffalo was alarmed and was pleased when Many Robes called the Big Council at the earliest possible opportunity. This friction must be resolved.

  The Council opened in a confused jumble of misunderstanding and resentment. The smug attitude of some of the Southern band was creating much friction.

  “Even our women can defeat Head Splitters!” boasted one man.

  The episode of the capture and clever escape of the two women had been told and retold, but some had begun to resent even that.

  “It is not for you to boast!” snapped an old warrior of the Red Rocks. “Wait until you are attacked again!”

  “The Head Splitters have elk-dogs, many of them!” another burst out. “They move fast, strike, and are gone!”

  Several suggestions were introduced. Some favored merging two or more bands, to gain strength in numbers. To others, the answer was to move out of the traditional territory of the People, away from the Head Splitters. The wrangling continued.

  Finally, Many Robes held up his hands for silence, and the noisy argument quieted. The real-chief looked around the circle for a moment as if searching, and his eyes lighted on Coyote.

  “Coyote, my brother,” he said, “you have not spoken. Tell us, what do you think?”

  Coyote paused a moment, and once again White Buffalo marveled at the man’s skill. He could recall no one who could manipulate a group of people as Coyote could, achieving what he wished but able to make others think it had been their own idea. White Buffalo had long been aware of this, but now he wondered… yes, surely, the Real-chief must realize it too. That was why he had waited until the proper moment to ask Coyote’s opinion.

  The crowd was quiet, waiting to hear Coyote’s remarks. This might be quite humorous, and the interest mounted, a relief from the heat and anger that had held the Council in its grip. Coyote waited, like a performer skilled in the use of the long pause, waiting for the right moment. He giggled nervously, and the crowd smiled and relaxed.

  “My chief,” Coyote began, “there is much that I do not understand. But it is a question to me… I hear the People say ‘aiee, the Head Splitters have elk-dogs.’ Why do the Head Splitters not say ‘aiee, the People have elk-dogs’?”

  There was a moment of silence, and argument broke out again.

  “But they have more!”

  “We have none!” shouted a man from the Mountain band.

  Many Robes held up a hand, and the crowd quieted.

  “Hump Ribs, your Elk-dog band has not been attacked?”

  “No, my chief, except for the women.”

  The crowd chuckled.

  “Then they are attacking only those of us who have no elk-dogs,” observed the real-chief.

  “This is true, my chief,” spoke Black Beaver of the Red Rocks. “But it seems their quarrel is with Heads Off and the Southern band, who now have elk-dogs.”

  There was a murmur of assent.

  “But they do not attack that band yet,” Coyote said whimsically. “Maybe they fear our elk-dog soldiers.”

  Again, there was a moment of silence as the crowd reflected on the truth of Coyote’s remark.

  “Yes!” exclaimed Two Pines. “If all bands had elk-dog warriors—”

  “We need more elk-dogs!” stated young Standing Bird, who was already gaining recognition as a skilled rider and hunter.

  “But where can we get elk-dogs?” one of the dissenters asked scornfully.

  “Where did ours come from?” Coyote asked with a bland smile.

  “The Head Splitters?” someone asked in astonishment.

  “Maybe we could…”

  “Aiee! I don’t know…”

  “We could!”

  “No, it is too dangerous!”

  Many Robes gestured for silence again.

  “Black Beaver,” he addressed, “your band is in closest contact with the Head Splitters. Where do they get elk-dogs?”

  The chief of the Red Rocks shrugged.

  “We do not know. But they have many. They seem to bring them from the south or southwest. It is said that there are tribes of hairfaces living there.”

  Glances turned toward Heads Off, who seemed embarrassed by the attention. Coyote intervened. “My brothers,” he began jovially, “let us ask my daughter’s husband. Heads Off, is your tribe living in that area?”

  Heads Off, still embarrassed by this turn of events, hesitated for a moment and then managed to speak.

  “I do not know, Uncle. They have villages farther south. Has anyone seen other hairfaces?”

  There was silence.

  “No, only stories,” said Black Beaver finally.

  White Buffalo wondered if the outsider still longed to return to his people. But now Many Robes was speaking again.

  “Then more elk-dogs… for the People… must come from the Head Splitters, it seems.”

  “Can we trade with them?” asked someone.

  It was not unheard-of to trade with the enemy, and such commerce was often useful. Any tribe might easily have more robes or meat than they needed, and, enemy or not, one must be practical.

  “Our women traded with them this season,” Coyote observed with a chuckle.

  There was general laughter. Big-Footed Woman’s exchange of bits of meat for the weapons and horses of her captors was the joke of the year.

  “Maybe,” Coyote went on, “we could trade for more in this way.”

  “What do you mean?” someone demanded.

  “Wait!” Many Robes held up a hand. “What Coyote suggests is this: If we are to have elk-dogs, we must get them from the Head Splitters. They will not wish to trade, so we must take them.”

  “Aiee! Did I say that?” Coyote asked softly. Everyone laughed again.

  “Could this be done?” Many Robes asked.

  Again, there was the murmur of discussion. Though there was some dissent, the general tone was now how to effect the proposed course of action. Gradually, a plan emerged. The Southern band would accompany the Red Rocks for the season, along with warriors from any of the other bands whose interest leaned toward elk-dogs. Raids would be attempted to acquire more horses from the enemy, and the Southern band would teach the others the use of the medicine of the elk-dog.

  Quickly the excitement grew. Each band could see itself becoming as successful and wealthy as the Southern band after the coming of the elk-dog. Young men rushed to state their wish to participate.

  In the aftermath of this council, the excitement of the Sun Dance was almost anticlimactic. Yet there were many prayers, sacrifices, and vows made in the ensuing days. When the People struck the lodges to move out in separate columns for the season, it was with greater excitement than ever before. There were many good-byes that held greater importance than before. Relatives who were separated each year now realized that this season would be different. There would be different dangers, but also adventure and the promise of reward if the proposed scheme proved successful.

  Hump Ribs sought out Heads Off after the council.

  “Can this thing be done, Heads Off?”

  “The elk-dogs? I think so, Uncle. If they are there, we can get some. And our young men are becoming skilled.”

  Hump Ribs nodded, pleased—not only at the prediction of success but at another thing that Heads Off had not even noticed. “Our young men,” he had said. Yes, the chief thought, Heads Off is really becoming one of the People.

  Meanwhile, White Buffalo was doing much thinking of his own. This entire concept, the idea of absorbing and using the medicine of the elk-dog, was so large, so far-reaching. He could see it working, helping the People. Yet it was happening so quickly. He found doubts forming again. Could it real
ly be done, this grand plan for the season? He must go and think—and pray, and cast the bones….

  These were exciting times. The People seemed ready for this major change, but sometimes White Buffalo wondered if he could still handle the excitement.

  44

  The two men cautiously worked their way up the slope toward the crest of the ridge. Both were aware that today was the culmination of the season’s effort, but for the moment, that was forgotten. More important now was the danger of their position. Sees Far carefully crept alongside a large rock, hoping that its broken outline against the sky would make his own silhouette less conspicuous. The rising sun was behind them. This too was calculated to make observation more difficult for the enemy.

  The raiding party had worked its way deep into enemy territory, carefully avoiding all contact. Now it had become apparent that a large band of Head Splitters was camped ahead. Tracks had suggested that they had many horses. This appeared to be a summer camp, much like that of the People, though in somewhat different terrain. Now they were scouting to plan the attack.

  Sees Far peered over the rim and suppressed a gasp of amazement. He motioned to his companion, and Heads Off wriggled forward to join him. Below lay a large camp of scattered lodges, possibly as many as those of the Southern band and the Red Rocks combined. There was little activity at this sunrise hour. Here and there among the lodges were tied horses—only a few, probably favorite mounts of warriors who would rather not risk pasturing them with the herd.

  And the herd! Aiee! Heads Off immediately saw the reason for the gasp from his companion. Quickly they estimated. There must be at least a hundred animals. The two remained a little while, studying the terrain and the best route of approach and retreat. Then they quietly withdrew.

  “Aiee, so many elk-dogs!” Sees Far exclaimed when they were at a safe distance. “Where did they all come from?”