In the darkness of the back rows, Coyote chuckled quietly to himself. Things were moving well.
Meanwhile, trusted scouts had been dispatched in all directions to locate and observe the buffalo. The plan depended on the presence of a large herd in an undisturbed state. When that necessary ingredient was available, the test would begin.
35
The tense situation was relieved somewhat. There was the excitement of the Sun Dance to become involved in, and the People seemed to feel that if a solution was in the offing, no further action was necessary. They were willing to wait on the course of events.
The Sun Dance was to last six days, and the formal announcements were begun by the crier the morning after the Big Council. With face paint carefully applied, he circled the entire camp repeatedly, blowing his eagle-bone whistle and announcing the event. This ritual continued for three days, and then the Dance proper began.
This most important event of the People’s year was designed to give thanks for return of the sun, the grass, and the buffalo. There were also vows and patriotic sacrifices and a general theme of rejuvenation. The curative and restorative powers of the Sun Dance were well known to be effective. Elderly limbs, warmed by the excitement of the occasion, did seem to lose some of their arthritic limitations and actually become younger.
The ceremonies continued nonstop, day and night, exhausted dancers being replaced by others as they retired from the medicine lodge.
But behind all the excitement of the occasion was the question of the medicine men. What had been the vision of Many Robes? How could the buffalo “decide,” as the real-chief had said? There were rumors, of course. It was known that there were scouts on a secret mission. It must be concerned with the buffalo, since hunting was forbidden. Just why was not clear, but the taboo was strictly obeyed.
Owl idled around the camp. His emotions were a strange mixture. There was joy at his return to the People and the festival excitement of the Sun Dance. At the same time there was guilt because he was not accomplishing anything. Aiee, how many seasons had passed since he was neither pushed to learn nor to survive! He scarcely knew how to use the free time with which he found himself. However, he had a willing companion to help him in any use of time. Willow almost embarrassed him with her devotion. It was a delight to be with her, and the two had never yet exhausted the surprise and thrill of just being in each other’s company.
The big question, of course, was still the resolution of the problem concerning the false medicine man. Together the two tried to decide what form the contest would take. Owl had no qualms as to his own skill in whatever test was presented. He had some doubts about the skills of Two Dogs. There was no way of knowing how much the other had learned from old White Buffalo. And, of course, Two Dogs did possess the white cape. Was it possible, Owl wondered, to steal the medicine of another? Would he, in a contest, be in combat against the medicine of his own teacher? That would be a grim situation. How could he compete against the medicine of one so wise and old as White Buffalo?
These were the emotions that alternately affected Owl as he slept, ate, danced, played with little Red Bird, or spent long hours in company with Willow. When the message finally came that would relieve the tension, it came as a surprise.
It was on the evening of the third day of the Sun Dance that a messenger came from the real-chief, with instructions. Owl stepped outside his father-in-law’s lodge to talk with the warrior. Owl must be ready to travel at dawn. He might take anything he wished that would pertain to his buffalo medicine. Two people would be permitted to accompany him as assistants, and they must carry food for three days.
The medicine part was easy, thought Owl. He had nothing except the medicine pouch around his neck. If he were to work with the buffalo within the herd, he would need a calfskin, but that was easily borrowed.
Of course he had no assistants, either. He must choose two to go with him for moral support in the undertaking. They must believe in him, and have the strength of spirit to enhance his medicine.
Of his first choice there could be no question. It must be Willow. They had shared so much, good and bad, and since their reunion they had become all but inseparable. He stated his intention, and the messenger nodded in assent.
The second choice was more difficult. Owl would have selected his father, Heads Off. He had always seemed a mountain of strength to the boy as he grew up. This time, however, because of the conflict, Heads Off would be disqualified. It would be better not to request him than to be refused.
“For my other assistant I choose Coyote, my grandfather.”
Again, the messenger nodded acceptance. He pointed to a distant hill.
“You will meet the real-chief at the top of that hill when Sun Boy shows his torch.”
Turning, the warrior strode swiftly away.
There would be little sleep this night. He must inform his father, borrow horses, and oh, yes, the calfskin. Rapidly he outlined the situation to Willow and her parents. The girl immediately started to assemble supplies, while her father offered a horse for her to ride. Owl would ride the claybank mare. He hurried away to ask his grandfather’s cooperation.
Coyote was delighted, but managed to hold his enthusiasm in check. Yes, he said, he would be proud to go. He would furnish his own horse.
Owl hurried on to his parents’ lodge and poured out the story. It was here that he borrowed the needed calfskin. Tall One embraced him and admonished him to be careful, and he kissed her and reassured her.
“Mother, this is only my duty as a medicine man! I have been taught well!”
He tossed the yellow-furred calfskin cape over his shoulder and stepped out into the night. Heads Off accompanied him for a way, walking in silence. The distant beat of the drums and the muffled chant of songs came from the medicine lodge. There was a slight acrid odor of dust in the air, mingled with smoke from cooking fires and the heavy damp smell of the dew.
“My son, I wish I could be of more help to you,” Heads Off spoke at last. “I have not been there when you needed me.”
They walked on in silence. Owl knew that, though it was true, there had been reasons. It seemed half a lifetime since he had apprenticed himself to the profession of the medicine man. Actually, he had himself felt some guilt at neglecting his parents.
If Owl had only known, his father was twisted by an even more complex set of emotions. Heads Off, with the return of his son, had been thinking often of his own parents far away. Only now did he begin to feel to some extent the suffering his father and mother must have experienced. They must have long since become reconciled to the fact that their only son’s bones lay scattered on the wide prairies of New Spain.
Now his own son, Owl, had returned. Heads Off took great pride in his son’s achievements, but as always found words difficult.
“I know you will do well,” he spoke hesitatingly. “May all your medicine be strong.”
Heads Off grasped the hand of his son in the ritual handclasp of the People, and turned quickly away into the night. There was so much he had wished to say, but could not express.
Owl stood for a moment, also wishing for the ability to communicate. Sometimes, he pondered, there are no words to say things of the heart. He hoped that his father understood. It meant a great deal to him that Heads off had wished him good medicine.
36
The eastern rim of the world was just becoming muddy gray with the false dawn as the three rode out of camp. There was a sleepy muffled thump of the drum from the medicine lodge, as a few dancers held forth. More would arrive soon for the increased activity of the day.
They picked their way across the prairie in the general direction of the appointed hilltop. Small birds, waking to the growing light, darted from in front of them. A distant coyote cried to his mate on an opposite bluff, and from a wooded ravine came the hollow call of the great owl.
The riders had traveled some distance before they saw three other horsemen in front of them. The advancing
daylight allowed identification of Two Dogs and his two assistants. It could be seen that all three were heavily armed, with both club and lance. One also had a bow slung across his back.
Owl suddenly realized that he might have committed a grave error. Two Dogs was ready for a violent showdown. If it came to a fight, here were three well-armed fighting men. Owl’s party, by contrast, consisted only of himself, his wife, and his grandfather. He tried not to think of their extreme vulnerability, and did not speak of it. He knew that the others were thinking similar thoughts.
Why, oh, why had he been so stupid, Owl asked himself. He had been thinking in terms of a contest of medicines. Two Dogs was obviously prepared to establish his authority by force. Owl regretted leading his wife and grandfather into this crisis. How much better to have brought his brother Eagle and one of the other Elk-dog men.
He glanced at Willow, riding beside him. Her grim, tight-lipped smile showed that she followed his thoughts. The friends of Two Dogs might find that they had underestimated this situation. Owl thought of the demise of Many Wives. That was a side to the nature of this slim woman of which Two Dogs was unaware.
Owl looked at his grandfather, riding to his left. Coyote, who was certainly not the best of riders, was bouncing along comfortably, enjoying the swaying motion of the horse. His eyes were half closed and he hummed a little song as he enjoyed the dawn and the waking of the world. He appeared completely unaware of any problem on the entire earth, but Owl was not deceived. From past experience he knew that Coyote had missed not one thing. It was simply not yet time to worry.
Nevertheless, Owl slowed their pace. It would be poor judgment indeed to ride up behind heavily armed adversaries. His own lance and the short knives of his companions would be poor defense if the trio turned to attack.
A great blue heron lifted heavily from a small creek ahead, and once airborne became the most graceful of creatures. Daytime birds were becoming more active, and the air was alive with their songs. Furry puffs of fog hung in patches along the stream or drifted among the scattered trees. It was a day that showed promise of quiet beauty, and to Owl this was a good sign.
Nevertheless, it was with a great sense of relief that he saw ahead of them the waiting riders on the hilltop. Many Robes himself sat majestically on his horse, flanked by two other men. Owl relaxed somewhat. It was encouraging that the real-chief considered this confrontation important enough to preside over personally. It was also reassuring to see that he was accompanied by two trusted warriors of the Northern band. Apparently Many Robes had anticipated the possibility of violence, and was prepared to back any decision by force if necessary. This would insure fair play. Owl’s basic optimism was restored.
The real-chief nodded a greeting.
“It is a good day,” he announced to the group. “Let us travel.”
Turning his horse, the real-chief started at a smart walk across the prairie. Owl, scarcely thinking about it, noted that they were headed in a northwesterly direction. Many Robes rode with one of his warriors at each elbow. Owl’s party spread out to the left and the group of Two Dogs to the right. The strangely assorted group scattered nine abreast across the plain.
It was an ideal day to travel. The assorted flowers of the prairie were at their finest, scattering scraps of white, pink, yellow, and indigo in pleasantly unexpected places. The yellow-breasted meadowlarks sang in constant chorus, and a red-tailed hawk circled on effortless wings above them. For Owl this time of teeming life on the prairie was truly his homecoming. Even the tension of the situation could not stifle the exhilaration he felt at being home.
At noon they reached a clear spring, and Many Robes called a rest stop. Owl, though in good physical condition, was stiff from the long period on the horse. There had been only short stops occasionally, and it was good to walk and stretch the legs. How much more uncomfortable the travel must be for the aging real-chief, and for Coyote, no athlete at best.
Those two older men sat apart, sharing a smoke without speaking. Owl noticed that one of Two Dogs’ friends hovered nearby, trusting no one. Two Dogs himself sat haughtily to one side, apparently considering it beneath his dignity to acknowledge the presence of the others.
When everyone had rested, drunk, and eaten lightly from the supplies of food, Many Robes gave the signal to depart. The grazing elk-dogs were assembled, and the party remounted.
The rate of travel was again a brisk walk. From the attitude of the warriors of the Northern band, Owl deduced that they would reach some sort of destination by the time of darkness. This theory was reinforced when one of the men rode ahead and returned in a time to confer with his chief. He pointed ahead, and the direction of travel was altered slightly. Soon they were met by another warrior, who talked at length with Many Robes, and remained with the party, acting as a guide.
Shortly before Sun Boy slipped beyond the world’s edge, they arrived in a little valley with water and grass, well sheltered from view.
“We will camp here,” announced the real-chief. “There will be no fires. But first, we will all go very quietly to the top of the hill to look.”
They dismounted stiffly, and the scout led them on foot to the broken rocky crest of the hill above them, cautioning quiet.
Owl peered around the edge of a limestone outcrop. Spread out over the plain before them was a magnificent herd of buffalo, dotting the prairie as far as the eye could see. The setting sun cast a golden yellow haze on the slight dust raised by the creatures. Here and there there was a glint of the fading rays on a polished black horn. An occasional cow called for her calf as the herd began to settle for the night.
Owl saw that it was good.
37
After a restless night the contest of medicines was to begin. Owl was happy that he had had a warm and loving companion to share his robe through the long hours of darkness. Not merely physical was the strength he derived from this girl. Willow, from the time he first saw her as a prisoner long ago, had had the ability to bring out the best in him.
They had whispered long through the night, mostly about nothings. However, when the time came to face the morning and all the stresses of the day, Owl felt that he was at his best. His slim wife had again managed to make him feel that he was the strongest, most astute, and most capable man alive.
The group went again to the crest of the hill and Many Robes outlined the conditions of the contest.
“You will see,” he pointed, “a ridge to the west, with several little canyons.”
Yes, it was apparent, several fingerlike projections from the main ridge formed a series of similar canyons between, each opening onto the level plain before them. Owl began to see the way the contest would take place.
“There are two canyons better than the rest.” The chief pointed.
Yes, it was true. Near the center of the formation, two of the blind-end canyons were very similar in shape. Both had narrow entrances, but opened out inside.
Prior to the use of elk-dogs in hunting, this would have been an extremely important type of formation. For more reasons than a dog has hairs, the People had hunted buffalo in similar areas. The medicine man had used such a canyon as a trap, enticing the animals within the natural walls. Then the entrance had been blocked by hunters, who could more easily kill the buffalo attempting to pass them at the narrow spot.
Now, the old skills were to be used again. Owl thought briefly of how he had resented the gruff old medicine man’s insistence that he learn. Now he was thankful.
“You will each use one canyon.”
Owl quickly evaluated the two best sites. One had a slightly narrower neck, harder to make the animals enter, but perhaps better grass inside. The most northerly of the two canyons, he decided, would be the most desirable.
“I will cast the plum stones to choose which canyon you will use.”
Many Robes took forth a small pouch and shook out five plum seeds. One side of each was painted red. He shook them in his cupped palms and prepared to roll
them upon a flat stone.
“Owl, you are reds!” He tossed the objects, and they bounced and skittered to a stop. Two showed the painted surface, three the natural color of the seed. Many Robes turned to Two Dogs.
“Yours is the choice”
Of course, Two Dogs chose the best of the two canyons. No matter, thought Owl. There was little difference anyway.
“Now,” Many Robes was speaking again, “you may start at any point on this side. You will put as many buffalo as you can into your canyon.” He paused long enough to thrust a spear upright into the ground. “When the shadow of my spear falls upon this rock,” he pointed, “the contest is over. Whoever has the most buffalo has the strongest medicine and will become White Buffalo! We will watch from here.” His tone, slightly more firm than necessary, said plainly that the real-chief would be on the watch for trickery.
Owl took the calfskin cape from his grandfather and adjusted it carefully around his shoulders and head. He must look as much as possible like one of the yellowish calves playing in the meadow below. He clasped his grandfather’s hand and embraced Willow. Then he turned and started down the ridge.
After a few hundred paces Owl shrugged into his crouch and turned directly into the herd. It was slow. It must be. His actions must be in direct mimicry of those of a calf. Faster motion would startle the great beasts, and they must remain undisturbed at all costs.
He threaded through the herd, apparently aimlessly, but working toward the opening of the blind canyon assigned to him. He gradually began to get the feel of the mood of the herd. He was “inside their heads,” as old White Buffalo had expressed it. Their mood was quiet and peaceful. The herd had been grazing quietly in the area for some time, and there still appeared adequate grass. The situation was ideal for such a test as now presented, Owl believed.
He worked among the animals for a time until he was sure of the animals’ attitude, and then began his task. He noticed a pair of calves cavorting playfully near the canyon’s mouth, and joined them in play. The two calves, enticed by their strange playmate, drew out away from the herd, until finally a cow called a warning.
Buffalo Medicine Page 16