by Mike Blakely
Horseback thought it well that he could smell meat roasting on the cook fires just as he spoke of food. The men had been in council long enough to grow hungry.
“The wisdom of the ancient ones, great-grandfathers of our great-grandfathers, lives on in the lodges of our storytellers. By this sacred passing of truths from one generation to the next, we have held many things in our hearts that our ancestors learned before us.
“The keepers of this wisdom remember that in ancient times, a war arose between the Noomah and the Na-vohnuh. Our ancestors fought bravely, but the Na-vohnuh numbered ten to our ancestors’ one. To escape destruction to the last warrior, our ancestors moved the True Humans to this country … this poor country … this hard country. It is a sacred country, for it has preserved the seed of the Noomah. Sometimes the spirits bless this country with rain and meat, and it is good for a while. But then it is poor again. The Na-vohnuh pushed our ancestors into this country to become surrounded by enemies: Crows, Northern Raiders, Yutas, and Wolf People. But now we have ponies. Ponies!
“By the light of Father Sun, Sister Moon, and all the star-spirits, it is true what the puhakuts have prophesied from ancient times, that the Noomah and the Na-vohnuh would one day meet again to make war, for I have drawn Na-vohnuh blood myself on the River of Arrowheads. As the storytellers have said, they are horrible people, stinking of kwitapuh and crawling with vermin. They hold the good lands in the south. They number many, but they are weaker than our horsebacks, for they do not know the hearts of their ponies. In my great vision, I see a horse nation of True Humans avenging the souls of our ancestors. We will chase the Na-vohnuh out of the good country in the south, and win wealth beyond the hopes of the richest warrior.
“I have seen great visions. I have survived the dangerous shadow of bright powerful medicine. I have prayed for wisdom and courage.
“The grass is all gone from this camp at Icy-Water. Those who have horses must move to keep them fed. The new trail goes south. We have made peace with the Yutas and will go along the borders of their country for safety. We will fight any nation that rises in our path. We will honor and avenge the True Humans who have gone before us to the Shadow Land, and conquer a good country for those not yet born.”
He changed his weight from one foot to the other, and thought in silence for a long moment to make sure he had not forgotten to say something.
“On the day of my birth,” he continued, “First Horse circled my lodge—a gift from the Shadow Land, but only for the brave! Those who master the ways of the four-legged spirit-gift will die with stomachs full of buffalo meat and other good things. Those who do not…”
Suddenly, Horseback heard the warnings of spirit-talk in his heart. It was not wise to say, as he had planned, that the foot-warriors would die with empty stomachs, or stomachs only half-full of bad things like snakes and grasshoppers. This would insult the foot-warriors and make him a prophet of bad things to come.
“Wait,” he said, putting his hand over his heart. “I must listen.”
He sat down to hear the voices of the spirits. The moon appeared above the hides covering the lower part of the lodge poles, and still Horseback did not speak. A branch in the council fire crumbled to coals, then turned to ash. A wolf howled seven times in the mountains. The moon moved across the open top of the council lodge. Still Horseback remained silent, and all the councilors waited.
Finally, he rose to speak again. “Those who master the ways of the four-legged spirit-gift will die with stomachs full of buffalo meat and other good things. But, those True Humans who choose not to go with the Horse Nation will remain sacred in the heart of the Great Creator, and when the Horse Nation goes out, there will be more food in this country for those who remain behind, for many will go out. It is good. The spirits have decided what will happen. I have spoken.”
The elders lighted the pipe again, and passed it. Blue Butte took some time rising to his feet, for he was old, and his joints pained him. “We have called this council to speak about moving our camp. Many have said we should stay. Some have said we must move. We have not made one choice. Maybe this camp-together is too large. It is good to see so many friends, but it is also good to follow different paths. Long ago the spirits made many bands of True Humans for many reasons. Maybe now, the spirits have made a band of horse-warriors who will make a new path under the hooves of their ponies.
“Listen, all of you young horsebacks. Your young leader, Kiyu, has power, but he misinterprets his vision. It is not a new nation he sees riding south. It is a nation of brothers, as our ancestors, Wolf and Coyote, were brothers, yet they are now different. You were born Noomah, my grandsons, and so you will remain as long as your blood runs and your hearts beat.
“We have not chosen to stay or to move, but until we meet again in council, we will stay here. Not because we have agreed to stay, but because we have not agreed to move. This is the way of the council. It is also the way for those who do not agree with the council of one band to go out to another band. The wisdom of our ancestors makes a place for every man. If the young horsebacks go to seek a place for their own band, that is good. Perhaps next time a great camp-together meets in this sacred place, and the people smoke and speak, they will agree. Now, we are hungry. Let us all fill our stomachs, as Kiyu has prophesied. This is the way of the council. I have spoken.”
The men filed out of the lodge, and immediately women began to take it apart. Horseback could see that some of the people were sad. It was plain that the horsebacks would ride out and make a new brother nation. This was good, but it made some people sad who would have to see their friends ride away.
Echo came to Horseback, but walked around behind him to speak, in a foolish way. “We must kill a bull and make your rattle from the scrotum. Now, my friend, you are going to be a Foolish One.”
Horseback turned around and found himself looking at the back of Echo’s head. “Hah. I only hope I am wise enough to become as foolish as you.”
That night, the people held a dance. The drums and the songs and the leaping shadows made Horseback happy. During the height of the favorite dance of the Burnt Meat People, Whip whirled into the brightest light of the fire, trying to dance harder than all the other warriors, for he was vain. He tossed one long braid over his shoulder as he whirled, and the end of the braid flew off and landed on the ground. The people laughed like crazy. Whip picked up his tresses and stalked away to his lodge.
47
“They are horrible two-leggeds,” Shaggy Hump said. “I cannot call them people, just two-leggeds.”
“Do they torture?” Whip asked.
They rode eastward across the vast rolling grasslands, beyond sight of the big mountains of Yuta country—six horse-warriors, all painted and armed with killing tools, except for the Foolish Ones, who only carried their rattles and quirts for counting battle strokes. The day was warm, and their topknot feathers jerked like nervous birds in the wind.
“Oobia, hah!” Shaggy Hump replied. “How the Wolf People love to torture! There was a Wolf woman among the Wild Sage People many winters ago. She has since died, but she was of Wolf People blood, though a Noomah warrior had captured her and made her good. She knew the ways of torturing like the Wolf People.”
“Who did she torture? How?” Whip asked, leaning anxiously toward the older warrior.
“It happened only once, for you know it is hard to catch an enemy alive for torture. But, once, the Wild Sage People found three Crow warriors hunting in our country. Two were killed, and the third was hit in the head with a pogamoggan. While this wounded Crow floated under the pass to the Shadow Land, the Noomah warriors tied him up, tsah! Then they brought him back to the camp for the Wolf woman to torture.”
“What torture did she use?” Whip prodded.
“She staked the Crow warrior out, arms and legs, tight, like this.” Shaggy Hump spread his arms and legs, making his pony take a nervous leap forward. “The Wild Sage People had been attacked by the Crow two w
inters before, and the Wolf woman’s son killed. She was very angry. So, first, she heaped coals on that Crow’s hands and feet and listened until he could scream no longer. Then she cut off a hand, above the burn, to make it hurt again, and heaped more coals to stop the blood so the Crow would not bleed to death. Bleeding to death would go too fast. They say that Crow started screaming again. Then, the other hand, same way. Then a foot. Then, another foot.”
Trotter put his hand over his ears. “Anah! I do not want to hear it!”
Shaggy Hump grabbed Trotter’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his ear. “Hear it! Now you know why I will not leave you on the battlefield today, floating under the pass to the Shadow Land. I will die in the fight before I let them catch you and torture you. And you will do the same for me. That is the way. That Wolf woman with the Wild Sage People kept cutting and burning until that Crow had no arms or legs, and still he lived. Do you wish to go to the Shadow Land like that?”
“No,” Trotter said.
“Then you will fight like crazy. The Wolf People are horrible. They shave almost all the hair off their heads. Ugly! If you see one with a hand painted on his chest, watch out. That one has killed hand to hand. They are dangerous.”
“More dangerous than the Northern Raiders we have been killing?” Whip asked.
“Like a great humpbacked bear is more dangerous than a lesser bear! They have a warrior society called the Tied Penises. They guard the retreats. They tie a cord to their penises and stake the cord to the ground so they will not abandon the ground they guard. These Wolf People fight! That is why we stayed off of the plains in the old days.”
“Now we have ponies!” Whip said, brandishing his lance.
“Yes. Use them well. Remember Horseback’s vision. The spirits say we must kill only those who come out to fight. We will take back all the horses they stole from us. Even if we find a village, we must take no Captives. You listen, Whip. No captive girls this time to make good, or sell to the Yutas. If you take one, our medicine will go bad. Take only the scalps of those who come out to fight us.”
“What if they will not come out to fight?” Whip asked.
“Then we will take no scalps. Those Wolf People scalps are not much good anyway.”
“No scalps?” Whip said, a complaint in his tone.
“That is what the spirits have said in my son’s vision. Is it so, my son?”
Shaggy Hump looked into the eyes of his son, for Horseback had been riding backward on his pony the whole time, facing those who followed him.
“No, my father, it is not so!” he said, but he was a Foolish One now, and meant the opposite of what he said when he wore his Foolish paint and rode his Foolish pony.
“If someone gets killed,” Shaggy Hump said, “that is all right. It is good to die on a day like this. But if I die, do not let the Wolf People keep my body. They will cut it all up and send me to the Shadow Land to live forever with my guts hanging out and my eyes burned away.”
“Hah, we know the way,” said Trotter, respectfully.
“Good. Those Wolf People are horrible. We should stay away from them, but my son says we cannot let them take our horses like that. The tracks show only three warriors. Maybe we will catch them before they reach their village.”
“They were stupid not to take all of our ponies,” Whip said. “They will regret leaving ponies behind so we could follow them.”
“Perhaps they wish us to follow,” said Bear Heart.
Shaggy Hump nodded. “Hah, be ready. Trust my son’s medicine.”
“Do not worry about deer tracks ahead,” Horseback said. “This is the country of the antelope nation.”
Shaggy Hump caught Trotter’s eye and pointed forward with a nod of his head.
“I will watch for deer sign anyway,” Trotter said. “We must honor the deer puha that protects us.”
As Trotter urged his pony past Horseback, the Foolish One reached out with his buffalo scrotum rattle and jabbed Trotter’s pony in the flank. The mount began to kick and wheel, finally tossing Trotter into the grass.
The warriors gathered around the unhorsed rider and laughed, making strange lines appear in their war paint.
“My son, you are a good Foolish One!”
“Your words make me angry, my father.” His grin showed white teeth in the middle of a face painted half-black, half-red, with streaks of each color running into the other.
* * *
His first fight as a Foolish One came far out on the plains, where the land of tall grass began. Horseback’s party overtook the Wolf People warriors as they cooked horse meat over a fire of dried buffalo dung. There were only three enemy warriors, as the tracks had suggested, but Horseback sent Bear Heart to circle the Wolf People, to make sure a larger camp did not lie beyond the next hill.
Bear Heart returned without having been seen by the enemy warriors. “There are only three. No village beyond. They are on the open prairie. No timber or even a creek bank to hide behind. They do not expect us to catch up to them so quickly.”
“How many horses?” Shaggy Hump asked.
“Three of their own, and eleven of ours.”
“They stole twelve,” Whip said.
“One died. That is why they have stopped here. To butcher the dead pony.”
“Which pony died?” Trotter asked, for he had lost two of his mounts in the theft.
“The red horse with high white leggings on the back feet.”
“Kwitapuh!” Whip said. “That was my horse!”
“They have three horses of their own,” Shaggy Hump said. “When we take them, perhaps my son will give you’ one to replace the red pony that died.”
“I must have the best of the three as my replacement That red horse with white leggings was a good pony.”
Echo frowned. “Hah, a very good pony. For the vultures.” He pointed to the sky.
“That pony was good!” Whip said, glaring at Echo. “And stolen on the watch of a Foolish One!”
“Pookai!” Shaggy Hump snapped, cutting in front of Whip. “Are you going to watch your brothers fight from a distance?”
“I will ride before anyone!”
“Then you will probably die in the fight and will have no need to replace your stolen pony that the vultures say is good. Anyway, the horses we take belong to my son, for it is his puha that guides and protects us. If you live, and if the spirits tell my son to give you a horse, he will.”
“If I live, I will remind your son that his father said so.”
Shaggy Hump turned to the rest of the young men. Since Horseback had become a Foolish One, Shaggy Hump had done much of his speaking for him, as it was too confusing for the warriors to think in opposites like a Foolish One.
“Remember my son’s dream,” he said. “Kill only if the Wolf People warriors come out to get us. It is good enough to leave them afoot, a long way from their village. We will be far away by the time they get back to their village.”
Whip sniffed derisively, but would not argue with Shaggy Hump.
Horseback shook his Foolish rattle. “The Wolf People are good, but their ponies are very bad.” He turned his mount, and led the party over the low, grassy hill.
When Horseback loosed his battle cry, the three enemy warriors mounted their ponies to flee, but they had made the mistake of leaving their bridles on tired mounts. The horses of the Noomah riders were tired as well, but they were warm and drew spirit power from the war cries of their riders.
Quickly, the Wolf warriors gave up hope of keeping all the stolen horses and rode away on the three they had bridled. The True Humans surrounded and held the herd of eleven, as the two Foolish Ones in the war party galloped ahead to count strokes on the Wolf People. The men with the herd sat upon their horses and watched anxiously as the chase reached far across the sward.
Horseback and Echo overtook the slowest rider, one to either side. As Horseback belabored the fleeing Wolf warrior with his rattle, Echo reached for the war bridle of the
pony. Catching the reins, he angled away. Horseback caught the tuft of hair growing from the back of the warrior’s otherwise shaved head and pulled the other direction, unhorsing the rider.
Once on the ground, the enemy warrior drew a knife to confront the two Foolish Ones, but they had no trouble dodging his thrusts as they rode around him yelling, “Ye-ye-ye-ye-ye-ye!” Their twin cries streamed thinly across the prairie as they dishonored the enemy horse thief with repeated blows.
“Look!” Whip cried. “The other two Wolf warriors have stopped. One has a Fire Stick!”
The onlookers could tell by the way the Wolf warrior put the butt of the gun on the ground that he had not yet poured in the magic powder, or dropped in the little heavy ball.
The Foolish Ones rode headlong toward the two enemy warriors, oblivious to the danger of the gun.
“They must hurry,” Bear Heart said, “before the Fire Stick is ready!”
“I am going to help the Foolish Ones,” Shaggy Hump said. “If the Wolf warriors kill my son, I will not let them cut him to pieces!”
“I am going, too!” Whip shouted.
The two Noomah horsemen thundered away, leaving only Bear Heart and Trotter to hold the captured herd.
The Fire Stick warrior put the gun to his shoulder. Smoke streamed from the breech, but no thunder erupted.
“My son’s medicine is good!” Shaggy Hump shouted as he abandoned his charge. “The Fire Stick will not roar!” He stopped to watch the fight again from a distance.
Before the Wolf warrior could prime his gun with more powder in the frizzen pan, Horseback and Echo were upon him. The third Wolf warrior got off his horse, strung his bow, and tried to notch an arrow, but Horseback struck him with his rattle, then reached for his pony’s bridle.
At the same time, Echo clashed with the Fire Stick warrior, knocking him over with the shoulder of his pony as the warrior tried to raise the gun again. The Foolish One then wheeled quickly, swooped low, and yanked the gun from the grasp of the Wolf warrior, crying, “Ye-ye-ye-ye-ye!”