by Karen Kay
Makoyi gave a yelp as though he understood every word and trotted off, coming back and looking at her, trotting off again.
Alys ran to her pony and mounted, cautioning the wolf, “Do not run so fast that we cannot keep up with you.”
Makoyi was already away, however, and Alys, leaning down to her pony, prayed, “Let him be alive. Just let him be alive.”
Alys was to learn that her mount was indeed one of those special ponies trained for the buffalo run. He seemed to know exactly what to do.
Alys, however, was not so ready for him. He darted into the buffalo herd with an abandon that had her closing her eyes before she gained the courage to take control and guide him back away from the main rush of the buffalo, keeping her pony close on Makoyi’s trail.
“Find him, Wolf,” she encouraged as the animal again came into sight.
So far they had stayed to the same side of the herd as Moon Wolf had. What if they needed to get through to the other side? What if Moon Wolf had ridden off in that direction? How would she do it?
It would have been impossible. The buffalo still charged through the valley, following their leader wherever he might take them.
Makoyi suddenly ran ahead, out of sight, quickly reappearing, then running ahead again, doubling back.
“Have you found him, Wolf?” Alys pressed her mount on.
Suddenly Makoyi ran a little farther away, sat down, and howled.
Had he found Moon Wolf?
Alys dismounted, being well to the side of the buffalo, and, on foot, ran as fast as she could toward the spot.
Sure enough, Moon Wolf lay on the ground in front of her, the tall grasses all but hiding him. Was he unconscious? He made no movement, nor could she detect the rise and fall of his chest. Either he had passed out or…dear Lord, no, he couldn’t be dead…
She rushed to him, putting one hand to his wrist, the other to where his pulse should be at his neck.
She let out a deep sigh. He lived. At least for now.
Where was he hurt? His well-trained mount still stood beside him, munching the grass as though only awaiting his master’s recovery and order. Oh, how she wished that pony could talk and tell her what had happened. She didn’t dare move Moon Wolf for fear of causing him more damage. Still, she could not attend to any injuries here, not with the pounding of buffalo hooves all around her.
Or could she? She had to try.
She began to inspect him with her fingertips, starting at his head, checking for any bumps or gashes. She could find little, but that could mean anything.
She moved her hands down further. Had he broken something? She felt along the back of his neck. No reaction from him. Unlikely that was broken.
Down further, to each arm, his chest. Still nothing.
She expanded her search down further, to his stomach, down each leg, to his calves, on downward, until at last he winced.
His ankle. Had he broken it?
If that’s all that was wrong, why was he passed out? Oh, how she wished at this moment that she were a doctor.
Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She had to do something, quickly. But what?
It was dark, and she could not see well enough to know what was around her, nor could she hear very well. The herd of buffalo, not more than a few hundred yards away, still stampeded. Worse still was the knowledge that somebody had shot at Moon Wolf. That person might search for him.
What should she do?
With some difficulty, she rolled Moon Wolf onto his side, feeling down his backside for any injuries. She could find none. At least whoever had shot at him had missed his mark.
What had happened, then, to cause his fall?
She might never know. But of one thing she was certain: she had to get him out of here. Now.
How?
His horse still awaited him, Makoyi whined and howled next to him, refusing to be quiet even when Alys tried to make him stop. Would the others from the whiskey train hear the wolf and come to investigate?
If he hadn’t been shot and she could feel no evidence of an injury to his head, it might be all right for her to move him. She had to take the chance. They could not stay here.
She could probably get him to his horse, but what then? How would she get him up on it?
She glanced at the horse, at the wolf, back to Moon Wolf. An idea took hold, and she jumped up quickly, running to her own horse and grabbing a rope.
If she could tie this around Makoyi, perhaps the two of them, she and the wolf, could raise Moon Wolf up onto his pony. She had to try.
“Come here, Makoyi. I will need your help to rescue your friend.”
To her relief, the wolf did not protest when she tied the rope around him; she repeated the procedure upon Moon Wolf.
Now for the hard part.
Using every ounce of her strength and then some, she took Moon Wolf’s weight upon her own and, with difficulty, dragged him toward his horse.
“Easy, boy,” she comforted the horse. “You will need to stand still while I get your master onto your back. Do not betray me.”
The animal pawed at the ground.
“Makoyi, go to the other side of the horse.” She motioned to the animal. Quickly she threw a blanket over the horse and stretched the rope over the animal’s back.
“Pull, Makoyi, pull, fella.” She wished she knew the Blackfoot word for pull, but it seemed to make no difference. Makoyi knew what was needed. Backing up and pulling on the rope with his teeth, the wolf struggled. She added her strength to the effort, pushing Moon Wolf up and onto the horse.
Finally he lay over the horse’s back.
“Good, boy,” she comforted the wolf. Could she get Moon Wolf into a sitting position on the horse? She tried to move him again, all to no effect. It was just as well. He might fall from that position.
She heard movement in the grass and held her breath, awaiting discovery. But the stir turned out to be no more than a buffalo calf, which the wolf quickly chased away.
She had to get out of here.
There was nothing for it. She would have to leave Moon Wolf dangling on the horse for the moment. It couldn’t be helped. At least he wouldn’t fall from there if she were careful and if she walked the animals out of the clearing.
Coming around to the horse’s other side, she untied the rope from around the wolf and reached down to pet him. “I could not have done this without you, Makoyi. We must now get him out of here and into a hiding place so that I can come back and erase our tracks. You must lead me to a place. Do you understand?”
Again, the animal whined and, lifting his tail, trotted off in the opposite direction of the buffalo.
Alys grabbed both of the horses’ reins and slowly, so as not to injure Moon Wolf further, followed the wolf, praising the powers that be that Moon Wolf surrounded himself with creatures so very, very wise.
Chapter 22
Makoyi led them into a wooded area close to the water. Alys busied herself with finding a well-hidden spot, finally settling on one close to some rocks and tucked away beneath some pine boughs and bushes. Returning to the horses, she brought out a blanket from her own mount and spread it on the ground in preparation for her last task—pulling Moon Wolf from his pony and settling him onto the ground.
She managed to take his weight on her own and drag him toward her blanket, easing him onto it and making him as comfortable as possible. Next, she returned to the horses to take their burdens from them and tether them.
Makoyi had disappeared on some self-appointed task with which Alys could little concern herself. She knew the animal would return; she also realized that she could not stay here with Moon Wolf. She had to go back the way they had come and erase all signs of their tracks. Someone would search for them sooner or later.
“Guard him,” she told the horses and, taking up a few pine branches, began her trek back toward the buffalo herd.
Having successfully erased their tracks, she returned to camp. She still did not k
now the outcome of Moon Wolf’s daring attempt, for she had been unwilling to go too close to the whiskey train.
Now she found that Makoyi had caught a couple of rabbits and had brought them back to the camp. She smiled at the animal. At least they would not starve.
“Thank you, Makoyi. After I see to your master’s injuries, I will cook these rabbits and we will have a feast.”
Makoyi whined and trotted off to a spot a few feet away from her. He lay down, head on his paws.
Alys turned her attention back to Moon Wolf. “What have you done to yourself that you do not awaken?” Except for his foot, she could still find little sign of injury.
Well, she would wrap that ankle with some of the material from their blankets and then build a fire. Luckily she was well versed in how to start a fire in the wilderness, a result once again of her mother’s unorthodox education.
Wolves began to howl in the distance, Makoyi answering their calls and looking to her as though seeking her approval.
She pointed out to the beast, “I cannot go out there, Makoyi. Please stay here. With Moon Wolf injured, I may need you to hunt for us again.”
But Makoyi could not be stilled. The wolves’ howls lured him, and he paced back and forth, now and then stopping to return the summons.
It was close to morning when the wolf finally left. Alys did not protest. What could she say? What could she do? The animal had become more than a pet; it was possible that she and Moon Wolf would not be alive if not for Makoyi. And because of this she could not deny Makoyi the right to live his own life, with his own kind.
She called out to him as he left the camp, however, “Just make sure, if you are going courting, that she comes from a good family, Makoyi, before you pair off with her.”
The wolf glanced back at her once and then, with his tail straight up, trotted away.
Alys busied herself with the fire.
Something wet touched his brow.
He moaned. His head hurt with a pain made worse when he tried to open his eyes.
Perhaps he would just keep them closed. He muttered “Tsaahtai’kayi.”
“I don’t understand you, Moon Wolf.”
English. Someone spoke to him in the white man’s language with the white man’s accent.
“What happened to you?”
He knew that voice. Little Brave Woman. His wife. Aa, memory came flooding back to him.
He uttered, “Alys?”
A hand squeezed his own. “I am here,” he heard her say.
Still, without opening his eyes, he asked, “What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly,” she said. “You charged the buffalo herd, do you remember that?”
“Aa.” He kept his head still, since even the simplest of movements sent it throbbing.
“There was a shot.”
“Aa, yes, the shot. When that happened, the buffalo turned all at once.”
“You went down somehow, do you remember?”
“A buffalo fell into my pony and tripped him, sending me flying from his back. I must have hit my head as I fell. It is all I remember.”
“That would explain why you have been unconscious, then. Makoyi led me to you and helped me to raise you onto your pony, who stood by you all the time you were out. Makoyi brought me here, too, and even hunted for us.”
“Aa, a good warrior is Makoyi.”
“Yes. He has gone for now.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. The wolves were howling and he could not resist going to them. I can only hope that, as you once said, our scent is so strong on him that he will not be lured away from us.”
“Aa, yes, we must keep that hope,” he said, adding, “I am going to try to open my eyes.”
“Don’t. There is no need right now. Rest some more; we are safe here for the time being.”
Still, he opened his eyes all the same, squinting and muttering to himself as he came up onto his elbows. “Where are we?”
“We are in a wood that Makoyi led us to. There is a creek nearby, and we are well hidden. I also went back and did my best to cover our tracks. Why do you not try to recover your strength? Then, when you are better, we can go back to the fort.”
“The whisky train,” he said, ignoring her plea that he rest, “what happened to it?”
“I don’t know exactly. After the shot fired, I saw two wagons fall, but I did not wait to see more. It became a more urgent task for me to find you.”
He lay back. “Then I will have to go north beyond the medicine line as soon as I am recovered to find out about it. I cannot allow that shipment to reach my people.”
She nodded. “I understand. If that is what you must do, so be it. But please, for now, rest and build your strength.
As though now he agreed completely, he grinned at he and did exactly as she asked.
Four days later they rode into the Indian encampmer that lay stretched out around Fort Whoop-Up which lay to the north, above the Canadian border.
Having sprained his ankle, Moon Wolf could barely walk without a limp, yet he insisted on going into the fort immediately. He refused her accompaniment, saying that there were too many bad things that happened there and he would not take her into it.
He had left her with his sister, Butterfly Woman, the same girl Alys had met so long ago. Alys was happy to see her again. Unfortunately, their mutual delight was dampened by the fact that neither young woman could communicate to the other.
“How have you been?” Alys asked her.
The young woman smiled at her, but shook her head.
“Tsa k-a:nist-a-opii-hpa?”
It was Alys’s turn to shake her head. There followed a companionable silence, the two women exchanging mom smiles at one another. But soon Alys began to fret.
What if something happened to Moon Wolf? If bad things took place in that fort, did it not follow that bad things might happen to him, too?
She tried to start up a conversation with Moon Wolf’ sister, to ask her about it, perhaps using sign language. But unfortunately, Alys’s command of that language was also limited.
At last, she came to a decision: she would not stay hen in the relative safety of Butterfly Woman’s lodge while Moon Wolf went off into the fort alone. And so to this end, as soon as she could, without seeming to be rude, she excused herself and meandered into the camp’s pony herd seeking out the mount that Moon Wolf had given her.
Little did she realize that Moon Wolf’s sister had followed her, bringing with her a blanket, as well as a supply of dried meat and a knife encased in a beautiful beaded buckskin sheath. After gaining Alys’s attention, the young woman tied the knife onto Alys’s belt and by hand signals, told Alys that the knife was now hers. Together, the two women began to saddle the pony.
Soon, the pony had a blanket over its back and a rawhide rope in his mouth. While the two women stood together, the young Indian trying to communicate something by means of sign language, her right hand over her heart, followed by a quick action to her right side as though she were throwing something away.
Alys merely shook her head. With only a rudimentary understanding of sign language, she could not communicate fully. She regretted now that she hadn’t taken the time to learn more.
“Sstonnat,” the young woman tried again. Then suddenly she said, “Da-ger…bad…hearts,” pointing in the direction of the fort.
Alys leaned down toward her and said, “I know there is danger. I will be careful.”
Another series of signs followed, Butterfly Woman’s hand coming over her eyes, fingers extended, backs of the hand out. This particular sign would have communicated in any language.
Alys said, “I will do my best not to look around me.” She grasped her sister-in-law’s hand.
Butterfly Woman nodded. “Ihtsisoo, innaihtsiiyi.”
But Alys didn’t understand the words. She gave her sister-in-law a smile of appreciation and, after a touch of their hands, Alys gave her pony a quick kick. Whereupon she set ou
t for the fort to rescue her man.
She could see the ill-reputed fort up ahead of her, noticing that it was one of the most well fortified forts she had ever seen. A stockade of massive squared logs, Fort Whoop-Up was well equipped with corner bastions for defense, bars in the windows, and loopholes every so often along the bulky walls for firearms.
Only one window—and it was barred—in the weighty oak gate operated as the trade center, and it appeared to her that no Indian was permitted past that gate. Lines had formed outside the window, while someone closer up to it argued with the gatekeeper.
To her left, several men fought with one another; to her right, a skirmish had ensued while one woman stood between two men and another woman postured farther away, crying. In the distance guns blared, drums beat out a fast, though steady, rhythm, and people shouted, sometimes taking a shot at one another.
The environment did little to encourage Alys, but she would not use this as an excuse to return to her sister-in-law’s lodge; not until she had found Moon Wolf would she be satisfied. Luckily, she still wore the feminine version of the Wolf Shadow disguise—a buckskin dress and moccasins. In this way, at least, because she dressed like an Indian she would not bring undue attention to herself.
She approached the gate with more than a little apprehension. Would she be admitted to the fort if she unveiled her true self? Did she even want that, not knowing what might await her there? Perhaps a more important question would be, would Moon Wolf have gone there?
The chances were that he had not, since it did not appear that any Indian was permitted within the inner sanctuary of that gate.
She would have liked to have sat still, weighing her choices, but any decision she would have made was quickly taken from her as a throng of people suddenly appeared at her back and pushed her forward and onward, closer and closer to the fort.