Comanche Dawn

by Mike Blakely

  But the Great One had a dark rival in this camp. The rival had a wife whom he loved to beat. He had captured this woman from the Northern Raiders, and made her good, yet he still beat her like a slave wife. The wife of the Great One tried to hide this poor woman, but the dark rival would find her and beat her. This rival had returned from the Osage fight without wounds, and with battle blows to his credit. He claimed great power because of this, yet some said he had caused the downfall of the Great One by killing a deer, which was the Great One’s spirit-guide.

  While the Great One lay wasting away, the dark rival began to harangue the True Humans. He boasted of his puha and said the people should follow him into the Na-vohnuh lands to recover stolen ponies and take enemy scalps. Many of the True Humans agreed with the dark rival, for his power seemed strong. While the Great One wasted away, twenty lodges moved southward with the dark rival who liked to beat his wife. It was a bad day, with much weeping among women who had to part with friends, and some arguing among warriors who had chosen to follow different leaders.

  Yes, it was a bad day, but the thing that happened was good. The Great One and his dark rival could not have continued to live in the same camp. One weakened the other’s power.

  When the dark rival moved out of the Great One’s camp, with twenty lodges, a new beginning was made. Now there were two bands of Comanches in the country of the Sacred South. More would come. Through this division, the nation would grow strong. The spirits move in ways mysterious to those who walk on earth.

  * * *

  Horseback heard a sweet voice singing and opened his eyes. Beside him, he saw Teal’s outline against the light that streamed in through the smoke hole. Even this light hurt his eyes. He squinted and noticed something twisting above his head, suspended from a lodge pole on a thin cord. When his eyes focused, he could see that the thing was a tail feather from a flicker. This was a good curative charm. He smelled stew.

  “I am hungry,” he said.

  Teal stopped abruptly in the middle of her song. She looked down at him, smiled, and left the lodge.

  Horseback saw his father move into view above him. “You should eat, my son. You look like someone’s frail sister lying there.”

  Trotter looked down at him, grinning. “I hope the elder sisters of our enemies do not come to torture you, my friend, for you cannot defend yourself. Not even against girls.”

  “He cannot even keep himself clean,” Bear Heart said, his head blocking the light from the smoke hole. “When he soils himself, his wife must clean him like a baby.”

  “Perhaps she should make him a great big cradle board,” Trotter added, and the men laughed.

  “Get out of my husband’s lodge,” Teal said, her voice stern. “He is going to eat, and he doesn’t want to listen to you.”

  Horseback ate, then slept. When he woke, he made himself sit up. He sat there a long time, then told Teal to help him stand. He felt dizzy, but his wife helped him step out of the lodge. Looking around, he found himself in strange surroundings, though he recognized some of the tallest mountain peaks and knew where he was.

  “Have you found any dogwood trees growing around this camp?” he asked Teal.

  “Yes,” Teal said, “in a place down the creek.”

  “Take me there.”

  Horseback found a good, straight dogwood branch and told his wife to cut it for him. For three days—while he ate and rested and regained his strength—he scraped and smoothed the dogwood stem into an arrow shaft Teal followed him everywhere, making sure he had stew or pemmican to eat, for he was always hungry. She carried a water vessel with her to slake his thirst. She carried a heavy buffalo robe for him to rest on when he got tired, and a lighter calf robe to cover him when he felt chilled.

  When he slept, Horseback would leave his arrow shaft suspended on forked sticks near the fire to cure it properly. When he woke, he would check the shaft for straightness. Finding a curved spot, he would rub grease onto the spot, heat it, then bend it straight.

  “Bring me a good piece of the sacred white flint so that I may make a point,” he told Teal as he worked on the dogwood shaft. “And boil some rawhide and buffalo hooves for glue so I can stick the point to the shaft before I bind it with strips of sinew. Do these things for me, and do not let your shadow fall on the things as you work on them.”

  “Yes, my husband,” was all Teal said. She did not question. She boiled the bits of rawhide and buffalo hooves in an iron vessel until she had made more than enough glue. This she collected on a straight green stick and let cool.

  After the third day, Horseback walked out to look at the few ponies his camp had left since the Na-vohnuh raid and the split with Whip’s followers. He looked carefully at each pony. At last he frowned, walked back to camp, and began to flake a fine, sharp point of the white flint Teal had brought for him.

  The fourth day, his father came to him as he painted black rings around the dogwood arrow shaft. “My son, the people in this camp are wondering about you. They call you elder sister. Some of them want to go away and join Whip.”

  “Whip!” he answered, a snarl in his voice. “Whip wants to ruin me!”

  Shaggy Hump sat silent for a long time, and watched his son paint the black rings around the arrow shaft with the tip of a kingfisher feather. Finally he spoke: “My son, Whip did a bad thing. He should not have killed that deer in the country of the Osage. He knows that you pay homage to the deer as your spirit-protector. But Whip has never had a vision like yours. He does not understand. It is not all Whip’s fault that your power left you. It is your fault as well, my son.”

  Horseback looked up from his work. “I have honored the deer!”

  Shaggy Hump chuckled. “You watch for deer trails, so that you do not tread on them. You refrain from eating the meat of the deer, or the food a deer would also eat. These things are good, my son, but there is more to medicine than the things you do in the sight of other men. The real power in your medicine lies in what the spirits see in your heart.”

  Horseback sat for a long time, thinking about this. The paint dried on the end of his feather brush, and he had to wet it with his mouth. “Tell me how I have failed, my father. You are wise. I do not understand.”

  Shaggy Hump smiled. “Sometimes it is easier to know how to hunt a herd of buffalo if you watch it for a while from a distant hill. When you get too close to the herd, you think too much of eating fresh brains and liver, and you cannot see how the herd moves. I have watched you from a distance, my son, and that is why I seem wise to you.”

  Shaggy Hump paused, and appeared to be listening, or smelling the breeze.

  “Six winters ago, my son, you had a great vision. Your spirit-protector revealed to you a nation in the mist. Since that time, you have sought to serve the spirits, and create this nation of horse people.”

  “Yes,” Horseback said. “That is true. I am called to do this thing.”

  “But do you seek this vision with your heart, or with your weapons?”

  “I must use my weapons.”

  “You must use your weapons as the spirits tell you to use them. Did the spirits tell you to seek battle with Wolf People because they stole three skinny ponies? We were lucky, and we got the ponies back, but your trouble with Whip deepened on that chase. Did the spirits tell you to follow Raccoon-Eyes? I know he is your friend, but he is not a True Human, and he does not understand our ways, or your vision. Did the spirits tell you to seek battle with the Osage, or to serve the gods of the yellow metal? Does the horse nation of your vision take up the lands the Osage now hold? Why did you follow Raccoon-Eyes there?”

  “To get more ponies,” Horseback said, rather defensively.

  “Did the spirits tell you to do this?”

  Horseback thought about his father’s question. He sat silent for a long time. He listened to the wind in the sohoobi trees. He heard the chatter of a kingfisher, and felt the power of the feather in his hand. He looked toward a bend in the creek and saw the king
fisher dive into the water after a fish.

  “No, my father,” he finally said. “The spirits have not told me to get ponies. I wanted them for myself. I wanted my people to think of me as wealthy.”

  “You have shadow-wealth, my son. You need not seek the wealth of earthly things. Trust the spirits to provide your ponies. It is not good to have too much of one thing. Do you remember the story of Rolling Rock?”

  Horseback thought about the old days, listening to his grandfather tell stories in the winter lodges. “I do not remember it all, my father. Tell me again.”

  “Well, it is not winter, but I will tell this story now anyway. I think you need to hear it, and perhaps I need to tell it.

  “In the ancient times, all the animals were humans. Wolf and Coyote were brothers. Wolf had a beautiful earring made of a shell that made many colors in the sunlight. Coyote wanted an earring like his brother, so he asked Wolf where to get one.

  “‘They are on the mountain,’ Wolf said, ‘under that big rock. You will find many to choose from. You must take only one. Do not take more.’

  “So Coyote went up on the mountain, and found the earrings under the big rock. He put one on his ear. He liked it. He picked another one, and another, until he had earrings all over both ears. Coyote began to dance, and he liked the way the earrings rattled when he danced. He said, ‘If I take just one, like my brother said, they will not rattle. I will take them all.’

  “So Coyote left the mountain, but when he looked back, he saw the big rock rolling after him. Coyote got scared. He ran across the flats with Rolling Rock chasing him. He climbed the next hill, but Rolling Rock came right up the hill after him. Coyote said, ‘No rock can roll sideways.’ So he ran around the side of the hill, but Rolling Rock followed him. Coyote said, ‘No rock can roll through timber.’ So he ran through the timber, but the rock came right through the trees.

  “Coyote asked his friend, Bear, to stop Rolling Rock. The rock ran over Bear and killed him. He asked Snake for help, but Rolling Rock killed Snake. He asked Eagle. Same thing. Finally, Coyote asked Night Hawk, and Night Hawk jumped high in the sky and dove down on the rock, smashing it to powder.

  “Night Hawk said, ‘You should not have taken all the earrings. Because you were greedy, Rolling Rock has killed your friends. Now you must wear those earrings so their shaking will remind you of how greedy you have been. Go straight now, and stop trying to have more things than everybody else.’

  “This is a true story, my son. You will know it is true when you see the night hawk diving on bugs, the way Night Hawk dived down on Rolling Rock to smash him.”

  The unfinished dogwood arrow shaft lay across Horseback’s thighs. “I have killed my friends,” he said. “I have been foolish, like Coyote.”

  “Your friends followed their own hearts. They died bravely in battle. Do not worry about them. They are hunting in the Shadow Land. Worry about yourself.”

  “Where do I begin?”

  “In your heart. Listen to the spirits. When you had your great vision, what did your protector tell you must be done to create the new nation of horse people?”

  The answer was so plain, that Horseback felt foolish for having forgotten it. “I must avenge the souls of my ancestors killed in battle. I must make war with the Na-vohnuh, our most ancient and terrible of all enemies.”

  Shaggy Hump smiled. “You see how the spirits have reminded you. They have sent the Na-vohnuh to attack your camp in your absence.”

  Horseback nodded. “The spirits are wise, but sometimes wisdom is cruel.”

  “The greatest power has the cruelest dark side. You know The Way, my son. You may give your power back to the spirits, and no man will speak against you.”

  Horseback moistened the feather and began to paint his arrow shaft again. “I cannot give my power back now. These people have followed me here. I will lead them to the new country of the Horse Nation, or through the Pass to the Shadow Land.”

  “Tsah,” Shaggy Hump said. “Now, tell me, my son, why do you make this arrow? If you want a better brush to paint with, I have one in my lodge. That is just a feather.”

  “It is part of my new vision.”

  “Another vision?” Shaggy Hump sat up straight on his robe. “Tell me.”

  “Sound-the-Sun-Makes came to me while I slept, wounded. He was very angry. His fires burned me. He told me I must make an arrow of dogwood. The point is to be of white flint, like our ancestors used. The sinew binding the point to the shaft must be red, to remind me of the blood of my ancestors. I must paint black rings around the shaft with the feather of a kingfisher. This will make my wounds heal as the water closes up after a kingfisher dives in. Each ring I paint will represent the soul of an ancestor I must avenge. The feathers on my arrow must be from the tail of a hawk.”

  “Hawk feathers are no good for making arrows, my son. Blood ruins them. You should use vulture or owl feathers. I have some fine turkey feathers I will give to you.”

  “Sound-the-Sun-Makes told me I must use hawk feathers to give my war pony quickness. This is a sacred arrow. It will never draw blood. I must sacrifice this arrow to the sun, in the sight of four brave men.”

  “And then, you will have your puha back?”

  “No. There is more. After I sacrifice the arrow, I am forbidden to eat meat, and I am forbidden to ride until Medicine-Coat comes.”

  Shaggy Hump smirked. “Who is Medicine-Coat?”

  “My warhorse.”

  “How will you know him?”

  “Sound-the-Sun-Makes told me I will know him.”

  Shaggy Hump nodded. “Then you must believe.”

  “I do, my father. I believe.” Carefully, he painted another ring around his sacrificial arrow.

  When Horseback was ready for the glue, he came to Teal’s fire. He softened the glue in hot water and stuck the end of his arrow shaft into the mass of glue. He had made a notch there to receive the white flint point he had flaked.

  “The glue is good,” he said, feeling the point stick firmly to the arrow shaft.

  “When it cools, I will place the glue stick in your bow case,” Teal said, “so you will have it to mend things.”

  “I must mend my heart, first. I must mend my medicine. I could not do these things without you, Teal. You are a good woman, my sits-beside wife. You make me strong.” He twisted a length of sinew between his fingers and prepared to wrap it around the tip of the arrow shaft and the base of the white flint point.

  57

  Horseback climbed the first mountain to the west with his sacred arrow in his quiver. The climb on foot made him tired, and he knew this was part of his penance. This would remind him not to displease his spirit-guide in the future, for he did not like to walk.

  Four brave men came with him: Shaggy Hump, Bear Heart, Trotter, and Crazy Eyes, who had distinguished himself during the Na-vohnuh raid by stabbing an enemy warrior though wounded himself with three arrows sticking out of him. Coming within easy bow range of the mountain top, Horseback stood under the sun all day, chanting, praying, and smoking his sacred pipe. When the sun touched the mountain top and began to sink beyond, he notched his sacred arrow and drew his bow. He let the arrow fly, and the four brave men all agreed that Father Sun swallowed it with fire.

  Returning to camp, Horseback began to assess his weapons while he waited for the arrival of Medicine-Coat. He killed the kingfisher that lived near his camp, piercing it with an arrow as it came up from the water with a fish. He sang many prayers over the dead bird as its plumage dried. He skinned the bird carefully, instructing Teal to tan its thin hide with buffalo brains. When Teal had preserved the kingfisher skin, Horseback told her to fill it with sage and grass to which he added a pinch of the sacred antler dust his Naming Father had given him many winters ago. Then he told Teal to sew the skin up, making the bird look almost alive again. He attached this sacred kingfisher puhante to the center of his shield.

  Horseback began to crave the pleasure of a ride, but knew h
e must await the arrival of Medicine-Coat, or anger Sound-the-Sun-Makes. For days, he watched the ponies, followed them, walked among them, spoke to them, smelled their sweet breath. None became Medicine-Coat.

  Waking one morning, he gently picked up little Sandhill while the boy slept, carried him to the creek, and threw him into a little pool. Horseback laughed as the boy came out of the cold water, coughing and shuttering with surprise.

  “My son!” he said. “This is a good day to wake up early. Come, you are going to ride today! You are Comanche—the one your ally calls his enemy.”

  He warmed the boy in his arms and had Teal feed him a mixture of milk and blood collected from the slashed utters of a buffalo cow Shaggy Hump had killed the day before. Then Horseback took Sandhill to the pony herd and chose a gelding. It was not the wildest pony in the herd. Neither was it the laziest. As he wove a short length of rawhide rope into the gelding’s mane at the withers, Shaggy Hump wandered out of the camp to watch.

  “Climb onto your pony,” Horseback said to Sandhill. “Use the rawhide rope to pull yourself up.”

  Sandhill clawed at the rope that hung down from the mane. The boy kicked and grunted, as his father and grandfather laughed. The gelding stood still through the entire travail, until finally Horseback boosted the boy onto the back of the pony.

  “You must learn to climb up by yourself,” he said, handing the reins to the boy, “unless you want to stay in camp with the women and girls while the men go hunting.”

  Sandhill only smiled and kicked his legs wildly at the flanks of the pony. He had ridden many times with his father. He knew how to handle the reins and send signals to his mount. The pony trotted away, veering this way and that to the wild pulls Sandhill made on the reins.

  “Not that way!” Horseback shouted. “Come back here!” When Sandhill returned to him, he said, “Where are you going? Your pony darts around like a squirrel. You must know in your heart where you go, then make your pony feel your heart. See that cactus? Ride there. Keep the way in your heart so your pony can feel it. Go straight.”