The Changing Wind

by Don Coldsmith

  “I do not know,” Heads Off admitted, “but they have young, as ours do. It would not take long to have many elk-dogs.”

  “How old must a cow elk-dog be to have young?”

  “Three years, maybe. It would not be called a cow elk-dog… aiee, Sees Far, I do not know! We can talk of this later. Now let us plan.”

  They returned to the rest of the party and related what they had seen. Hump Ribs was willing to relinquish the planning to Heads Off.

  “There is a small stream,” Heads Off explained. “We can cross there, in the dark, and move them across, to come this way. Those who are riders will take ropes and catch an elk-dog to ride. Others can stop any pursuit.”

  It was decided that if any problem arose, a long yell would signal everyone to escape as best he could.

  The day seemed long, the waiting interminable. Men slept, talked, gambled, or checked their weapons. The attempt would be made just before dawn, to take advantage of the Head Splitters’ well-known reluctance to fight at night. But by moving out just before dawn, they would have good light for traveling rapidly. Pursuit was likely, but if most of the enemy’s elk-dogs could be stolen, the numbers of mounted pursuers would be few.

  It was a bold and risky plan, but expectations were high. White Buffalo had promised to strive to the utmost of his ability and the power of his medicine for the success of the raid. His signs, it was said, had been good. Every man knew that at this very time, back at the summer camp several sleeps away, the holy man would be actively helping. There would be chants, fasting, ceremonial dances, and prayers. Probably White Buffalo would not even sleep during the night or two of importance to the raid.

  By the time of the late rise of the half-moon, men were beginning to stir in the camp. One by one, they began to rise. They wakened the few sound sleepers and quietly moved out, led by Sees Far and Heads Off.

  The yellow smudge of false dawn was barely showing in the east when the young men of the Elk-dog Society began to move among the grazing animals, knotting thongs around lower jaws and choosing animals to ride. So far, there had been no evidence of any sentry or wolf. Apparently the Head Splitters, deep in their own country, felt completely secure. The word was passed quietly, and the horsemen began to urge the herd toward the creek. Still there was no alarm. It was not until the splash and clatter of many hooves stirred the gravel of the ford that some early riser in the enemy camp noticed anything amiss.

  A warrior, awakening, rose to attend to the urge of his aging bladder. It was no longer efficient enough to maintain capacity completely through the night. He yawned and stretched and stumbled sleepily out of the lodge and around to the rear to urinate. It was only then that he heard the rattle of gravel at the stream. He paused a moment and realized that the herd was crossing at the shallow ford. What a nuisance, he thought. The creatures wander. A bear, maybe, like the last time. Or possibly one of the great long-tailed cats that sometimes came down from the foothills. He raised his voice in a long yell to rouse the others. He noted even as he did so that this seemed to startle the herd. Startled the stalking bear probably, he thought, and that in turn had panicked the elk-dogs. Now, from the sound, the entire herd was in full flight. It would take some of the young men most of the day to round them up. Well, it was no concern of his. This whole elk-dog thing was for younger men. Having done his duty by raising the alarm, he turned to a more important matter, loosening his breechclout to relieve the now urgent pressure of his swollen bladder.

  The Elk-dog men of the People, meanwhile, assumed that the long yell was a signal that they were discovered. Quietly, they swung up to the backs of their horses and quickened the pace, urging slower animals across the ford. As the herd began to move as a unit, the men rode back and forth, circling, keeping the animals together, continuously pushing ahead. They passed half-hidden bowmen, stationed to delay pursuit, but so far there was none.

  It was well past daylight when Heads Off suggested a stop to evaluate the success of the raid.

  “Aiee!” someone cried, “this must be every elk-dog the Head Splitters had!”

  “There were a few more in their camp,” Sees Far said, “but most of those we saw are here.”

  “They may have others somewhere else,” warned Heads Off. “But is there no pursuit?”

  The bowmen were now rejoining the main party.

  “We saw no one,” Two Pines said, puzzled. “We left wolves to watch.”

  Sometime later, the wolves reported that they were indeed followed.

  “Only two riders. They ride slowly and do not seem alarmed.”

  “Could it be,” asked Sees Far, “that they do not know their elk-dogs are stolen? That they believe the herd only wandered off?”

  That seemed the likeliest explanation. Perhaps this had happened before.

  “Or,” suggested someone, “the medicine of White Buffalo is very powerful, to close the enemy’s eyes.”

  “They will not stay closed,” warned Hump Ribs. “Soon they will see our tracks.”

  “Those who follow must be stopped,” Standing Bird said firmly. “I will go.”

  “Wait!” called Heads Off, “you—”

  “Let him go,” advised Hump Ribs. “He is thinking of his parents.”

  Standing Bird had picked up his bow and now started back on foot, jogging.

  “Let us move on,” Hump Ribs decided. “He will catch up.”

  It was much later, when they had paused for a rest stop, that someone pointed to moving figures in the far distance.

  “We are still followed!”

  “But by only one,” Sees Far noted.

  They watched as the rider made his way down the opposite slope and crossed the valley toward them. He was riding one horse and leading another, it appeared. And there was something familiar about the way he sat—-his posture and balance.

  “It is Standing Bird!” exclaimed Sees Far.

  Standing Bird rode toward them, unhurried, and finally swung down. He removed the rawhide war bridle from one of the animals, and released it.

  “We are no longer followed,” he said simply.

  * * *

  Back at the camp of the People, the days passed slowly. White Buffalo was certain that the raid was over. He had felt the time of decision and was optimistic that the raid had gone well but was hesitant to say so. After all, he could be wrong. It was possible that his urgent wish for success could make him misinterpret his feelings and the signs that he now saw.

  Aiee, he would be glad when this was over! It was not unpleasant, this slightly different country of the Red Rocks band. Different, with a variety of plants not found in his own Tallgrass region, or in the Sacred Hills. But not unpleasant. However, he would be glad to move back to a more traditional locale. The season was still fairly early, and White Buffalo hoped that they could survive winter in a more familiar site. He would urge such a move, perhaps.

  But his feeling for the season was good. Elk-dogs had made the Southern band strong and prosperous, and could do the same for all the People. His signs had been good for this raid, and he was sure of the success of the raiders. Well, almost sure. There were always factors which might interfere with all the good signs that might be present. Some unknown things even, of which he might be completely unaware in a strange country.

  He tried to maintain his composure, to radiate confidence that he only partly felt. That was important in his position, not to reveal any doubts. Not that he had any real doubts, of course, but…

  Crow was hurrying toward him from across the camp. He half rose from the backrest, a little flare of alarm rising in his throat. Then he saw the smile on her face.

  “It is her time,” Crow said happily. “Tall One! She is ready for birthing!”

  White Buffalo sank back on his rest, relieved that there was no emergency.

  “It will go well, I know,” Crow Woman was saying. “Her family has always had easy birthing. Aiee, Elk, I can hardly wait to see this child! A child of Heads Off!”


  She entered the lodge, and he could hear her singing happily to herself as she went about her work. Aiee, she should have had a child.

  A man trotted into the camp from the west, and his voice rose in a long hail.

  “Ah-koh!” he shouted. “Hear me, my brothers! The raiders return! More than a hundred elk-dogs, and we have lost no one!”

  White Buffalo smiled to himself as he settled back once more to lean on the willow rest. It was good. Yes, his medicine was strong, even in this strange country, and his instincts were still good.

  45

  As it happened, the son of Tall One and Heads Off did not have fur upon his face. Tall One and Big-Footed Woman were quite disappointed at first. They had hoped that the child would show the mark of his heritage. Heads Off, startled initially by their disappointment, assumed that there was something wrong with the child. He was almost frantic with worry.

  “But what is it? The child is deformed?” he asked anxiously.

  “He has no fur,” Tall One said sadly, stroking the ruddy cheek.

  “Aiee,”Heads Off cried, laughing. “Newborn babes do not have facehair!”

  Gently, he unwrapped the infant.

  “Look, there is no hair on the private parts either. That comes later.”

  “Will he have facehair later, Heads Off?” Big-Footed Woman asked.

  “Maybe. Probably some. He will have to decide whether to pluck it.”

  Now it became a matter for joking and laughter, that Tall One had anticipated a fully furred infant. The entire band laughed about the hairless babe for most of the winter with new jokes constantly. Tall One named the child Many Elk-dogs, in commemoration of the day the raiding party returned in triumph. But the name did not stick. The People immediately began calling the infant Bald Eagle. After all, were his head and face not bare and white like those of the eagle?

  Both names, of course, were nicknames. They would be used only until his second year, at the time of the youngster’s First Dance. Then he would receive his name from the oldest male relative, in this case, Coyote. While it was customary for this ceremonial Uncle to bestow his own name, it was not always so. Somehow, White Buffalo had the idea that when the time came, Coyote would surprise everyone with a name other than his own.

  But that was in the future. For now, the most important thing before the People was to learn the use of the newly acquired elk-dogs. Heads Off had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the teaching of his skills. It was little short of amazing how rapidly the young men learned. Standing Bird and Long Elk, already experts, assisted in the instruction. The young men were learning the use of the long spear and the bow on horseback as well as care and feeding of the animals.

  In addition, Heads Off seemed obsessed with trying to get the elk-dog men to ride in unison, working together. He took a dozen or more willow hoops and fastened them to bushes a hundred paces or so away. Then the fledgling lancers were formed into a line and led into a full charge by Standing Bird. Each man would attempt to thread a willow hoop, a handspan across, on the shaft of his lance as he swept past. Accuracy was rare at first, but soon nearly every target dangled on someone’s lance after the charge.

  Heads Off came over to where White Buffalo and Coyote sat on the slope to watch.

  “Ah-koh,” he said as he sat down to join them.

  “Your young men do well,” observed White Buffalo.

  “Thank you, Uncle. They learn quickly.”

  “Heads Off,” Coyote asked, “why do they learn this… the running at targets all at once?”

  “Uncle,” Heads Off said seriously, “these warriors will have to fight Head Splitters on elk-dogs. It is done so in my tribe, the learning to strike at the same time. This brings fear to the heart of an enemy, all charging at once.”

  “I see. But what protects them from arrows of men on foot?”

  “Well, I… they move quickly. Our warriors wear a metal shirt.”

  Coyote nodded. “We have no metal shirts. Could they carry a shield?”

  “A shield? Like a man with a war ax would use?”

  “Yes, maybe. One a little smaller, but of good rawhide, from the back of a bull.”

  “It might work,. Uncle. Would it turn an arrow?”

  “Unless it strikes straight on. A spear too, unless it is a direct blow. Will you try it?”

  A shield was brought, of the heaviest of bull’s backskin, stretched and dried to rocklike hardness. Coyote fastened it to one of the dogwood bushes, and the young riders galloped past in turn, loosing an arrow or thrusting with a lance. Incredibly, only one arrow caught the shield just right and penetrated to half its length. All others were turned aside, glancing from the flint-hard surface of the rawhide, like a flat pebble skipped on the surface of a still pool.

  “It is good!” shouted Heads Off in delight. “Let each warrior carry a shield. A little smaller maybe.”

  White Buffalo, too, was impressed. Aiee, there was much to learn about this elk-dog medicine. He and Crow had been given an elk-dog by the returning raiders. They would not ride it but used its great strength to drag the lodge poles and cover during a move. It was good, and it made him and Crow happy to use this method of transport.

  “Oh, yes,” Crow explained to an acquaintance, “we have an elk-dog. The raiders gave it to us in thanks for my husband’s help,”

  On every fair day during that winter, the elk-dog warriors practiced. On inclement days, they repaired weapons or worked on their new shields.

  There were no Head Splitter attacks on anyone that spring. At first, this was difficult to understand. Finally, after much discussion, it was decided that the loss of elk-dogs the previous fall had been an even harder blow to the enemy than they had realized. The stolen horses must have been the major concentration of all elk-dogs held by the Head Splitters.

  “But they are angry,” reported Black Beaver as the People gathered for the Sun Dance. “We encountered a traveling band only a moon ago. They blame Heads Off… Hair Face, they call him. Ah, that Gray Wolf is a bad one! He threatens again to use the face hair on his shield.”

  Heads Off approached Coyote about these repeated threats.

  “Tell me, Uncle, what do you know of this man? He has long threatened my life. What do you know of him?”

  Coyote giggled, a little nervously perhaps.

  “Who knows anything about a Head Splitter? But this one… well, you have seen him. You might not remember… your first season with us. A big man, one of their subchiefs then. Probably a little crazy.”

  “What will happen, Coyote? How will this thing come about?”

  Coyote shrugged.

  “They will attack us sometime.”

  “This season?”

  “Probably. We must be ready.”

  The first inkling that hostilities were being resumed came shortly after the Sun Dance. Four youths, confident in the glory of their manhood and the strength of their elk-dog medicine, had boldly left the Sun Dance before the others.

  As the Southern band traveled the next day, White Buffalo had been watching a pair of buzzards circling high on fixed wings above the prairie. Suddenly, first one and then the other broke the perfect symmetry of the circles to drop away to the plain below. Another and yet another of the creatures appeared in the distance, each dropping as it neared the same spot.

  The four bodies had been placed side by side, almost ceremonially, where the travelers would be sure to find them. The skull of each was split by a blow from a war ax. There was no sign of their elk-dogs.

  Two of the four had apparently been already dead from arrow wounds when they had been placed here. The shattering of their heads was purely symbolic, a message to the People. Travel was delayed for a day to allow for mourning and for scaffold burial of the corpses. Then Hump Ribs called a council.

  “We must be very careful, my brothers. We must have wolves out at all times.”

  There was some discussion but basic agreement. This season, it seemed, would
be a time of decision. A summer campsite was selected largely on the basis of defensibility.

  And the attractive stream with its tree-lined banks and clear pools over white gravel received a new name. No longer would it be known as Sycamore Creek, but as Head-Split Creek.

  * * *

  Despite the expectations of conflict, there was none that summer. Impatient, the young men suggested a campaign against the enemy, but Hump Ribs objected, and the council firmly backed him. There must be no unauthorized forays. Mention of the fate of the four who had met the enemy at Head Split Creek quieted the discussion.

  White Buffalo was pleased with Hump Ribs’s handling of the matter. Quiet, firm, and sensible, the band chief seemed to grow in stature as he held the office. Again White Buffalo recalled that some men seem to grow when a position of leadership is thrust upon them. It had been so with Hump Ribs. Part of his leadership was a matter of circumstance, of course. The Southern band had been the one to acquire the First Elk-dog and had the advantage of Heads Off to teach the young Elk-dog men. But even that might not have been, had not the insight and quiet leadership of Hump Ribs allowed for it.

  Now the Southern band, increasingly called the Elk-dog band, was easily the most prestigious band of the People. Its leader, in turn, was respected above any other of the band chiefs. It seemed certain that when the time came, Hump Ribs would be the new real-chief.

  At the appropriate season the band moved into winter camp. Again, the chosen site was for the best defense against attack by mounted warriors. It was an excellent site, a long narrow meadow several hundred paces in width, protected on the south by the river. On the north was a rocky slope, gradually curving down to meet the river at the east end. The only access to a mounted attack was from the west.

  No winter attack was anticipated, but a close watch was kept. With the Moon of Awakening the wolves began to range farther across the prairie. The reason was twofold. This was the time of year favored for forays by Head Splitters. In addition, the buffalo herds would be migrating northward, following the lead of the restless geese.