Authors: Don Coldsmith
Buffalo Medicine (13 page)
The knowledge that
the camp ahead was that of the enemy made very little difference to Owl. His course was still directly toward the smoke stain on the far horizon. Now he must merely be more cautious, to avoid detection. He stayed on high ground whenever possible to improve his field of observation. Yet, he was careful not to make himself too conspicuous. When approaching the crest of each low, rolling hill, he sought the concealment of broken, rocky terrain, or the irregular lines of vegetation. His camp that night was without fire.
the camp ahead was that of the enemy made very little difference to Owl. His course was still directly toward the smoke stain on the far horizon. Now he must merely be more cautious, to avoid detection. He stayed on high ground whenever possible to improve his field of observation. Yet, he was careful not to make himself too conspicuous. When approaching the crest of each low, rolling hill, he sought the concealment of broken, rocky terrain, or the irregular lines of vegetation. His camp that night was without fire.
By late next afternoon he had moved to a jumble of boulders overlooking the distant encampment. It was a large cluster of conical skin lodges, looking much like that of his father's own band. A wave of homesickness washed over him for a moment before he reminded himself that this was the enemy. Still, these were buffalo people,
men of the prairie, and he felt a strange contradictory kinship with them.
men of the prairie, and he felt a strange contradictory kinship with them.
For a long time he lay on his belly and studied the camp. Judging from the number of lodges, there might be fifty or more warriors. This might even be, he realized with a start, the band of Bull's Tail, his previous captor. He was unsure how many bands there were in the Head Splitters' entire tribe. Maybe six or seven. They were constantly shifting, changing in size and strength like the bands of his own people. Political pressures, prestige, even a successful hunt or war party could attract warriors to join with an influential chief for a season.
The lodges were too far away for him to see any of the markings painted on the skins. Strange, he pondered. At a great distance, color became meaningless. One's eye could see motion or form at a much greater distance than color. He knew that many of the lodge paintings would be bright reds and yellows, but at this distance, all were hazy shades of gray-blue.
It was the same with the herd of elk-dogs, scattered in the prairie behind the camp. He could see motion and the familiar shapes, but could not identify colors of individual animals. He must get closer as darkness fell, and steal a horse to continue his journey.
Owl was so intent on the panorama before him that he committed a near-fatal mistake. He had focused his entire attention on one direction, the camp to the east of him. His usual caution had been neglected, and for the moment he had forgotten to sweep the horizon with a glance from time to time. Therefore, he overlooked the buildup of dirty-gray clouds on the horizon to the northwest. For a while, they appeared little different from the gray-blue of the distant mountains, and were easily overlooked.
By the time Owl noticed the threatening change in the weather, the storm front was rapidly developing. Cold Maker, in one last belated effort of the season, came
pushing over the mountain ranges, sliding down the eastern slopes and spilling out on to the prairie. Sun Boy's torch was quickly obscured, and the changing winds carried promise of frost and snow.
pushing over the mountain ranges, sliding down the eastern slopes and spilling out on to the prairie. Sun Boy's torch was quickly obscured, and the changing winds carried promise of frost and snow.
Owl, trapped in the open, could do very little until darkness would hide his movements. He wrapped as warmly as he could in the assortment of skins he possessed, and waited, shivering, for nightfall. By the time of darkness, snow was falling, being driven almost horizontally by the cutting wind. Owl's feet were numb and wooden as he stumbled to his feet and started toward the camp.
He could almost believe that Cold Maker had taken a personal interest in the destruction of Owl. It was logical, his half-frozen brain told him as he plodded across the prairie. He had had the audacity to challenge Cold Maker in his own domain, and had survived. Now, the vengeful deity had waited for the proper moment, and had caught Owl off guard. The full force of the storm had been unleashed in destruction.
There was a time when he was almost ready to concede that he was beaten. He could see no way that he could possibly drag himself as far as the cluster of lodges for shelter. He was tempted to lie down and rest for a moment, to regain strength to continue. Then he remembered. This was a favorite ruse of Cold Maker, to delude his victims into a sense of security.
“Cold Maker is a liar,” Coyote had once said. “He tells his victims that all will be well if they will only lie down to rest.”
Those who did so, of course, never rose again, but would be found frozen after Cold Maker's departure.
Somehow, this was the focus of Owl's thoughts. His resentment of Cold Maker's treachery made his heart race and his blood pump faster. He had conquered too much treachery, he vowed, to give up now. He moved on, jogging to cover distance faster.
He must be cautious, he realized. Another of Cold Maker's tricks was to cause one to walk in a circle. Many had followed their own tracks to their death. In the darkness, this would be an easy mistake. Owl avoided this error by keeping the blast of the north wind continually on his left cheek. Eventually he would come to the camp or to the strip of timber along the creek below.
He considered for a time walking boldly into the camp and seeking shelter. He could profess friendship with Bull's Tail, one of their respected chiefs, and acquire shelter in this way. Even if they regarded him as a prisoner, there was the possibility of future escape. Persons who died under Cold Maker's onslaught had no such chance. Before he was forced to make such a decision, however, he recognized this line of thought for what it was. Anger welled up in him again at Cold Maker's treachery in confusing his brain. It was unthinkable to give one's self to the enemy. He jogged on.
Suddenly, ahead of him, out of the white wall of the driving snow, loomed darker shapes. He paused momentarily, then recognized the bending forms of trees and brush. Almost at the same time, he fell, rolling into the depression of the stream bed. Fortunately, there was no water at the point where he landed, and the clatter of gravel was obscured by the howl of the wind.
Owl sat up. The thin shelter of the strip of trees and the stream bank made the area seem like the warm inside of a lodge by comparison with the open plain. He gathered his possessions and moved among the trees, searching for the most sheltered portion of the area.
Visibility was so poor, with darkness and wind-driven snow, that he stumbled against a warm furry shape before he had any warning. There was the startled snort of a disturbed horse, and the animal moved away from him.
Aiee,
what good fortune, thought Owl. He had blundered into the timber that the elk-dogs had chosen for
shelter. Other dark forms moved restlessly, dimly seen among the trees. Owl shook out a length of rawhide rope from his pack. During the Moon of Long Nights he had worked on the plaiting of this device. Sooner or later, he had told himself, it would be needed. He had intended to obtain a horse when he could, and of course, one cannot steal a horse without a rope.
what good fortune, thought Owl. He had blundered into the timber that the elk-dogs had chosen for
shelter. Other dark forms moved restlessly, dimly seen among the trees. Owl shook out a length of rawhide rope from his pack. During the Moon of Long Nights he had worked on the plaiting of this device. Sooner or later, he had told himself, it would be needed. He had intended to obtain a horse when he could, and of course, one cannot steal a horse without a rope.
The animals were skittish, but he had no difficulty in slipping the rope around a neck, and the elk-dog responded to restraint. Once his hands were on it, the animal quieted. Owl ran exploring fingers over the head and neck, attempting to identify in the dark what sort of individual this might be.
The front teeth met at a good angle, telling him immediately that the horse was not too old to be of use. The ears were erect and alert. He leaned an arm across the elk-dog's withers, and it made no unusual response. He decided that this animal would satisfy his purposes.
Deftly, he tied the medicine-knot around the lower jaw, leaving the rope ends long for reins. Now he had only to wait for the storm to begin to abate. He turned the horse and leaned against the warm shoulder, on the downwind side.
Timing would be critical, he knew. If he were fortunate enough, the storm would decrease before daylight, and he could move on eastward. Several factors were worrisome to him as he stood waiting and chewing a strip of dried venison. The horse would leave tracks in the snow, but the wind might easily drift the powdery stuff and cover his trail. That would be a great joke on Cold Maker, he thought with satisfaction. It would depend much on when the storm abated and whether he was able to travel much before daylight.
Well, one thing at a time. Just now, he had beaten the storm, and had obtained the ability to travel rapidly. He rubbed his numbed fingers into the warm fur of the elk-dog, and waited.
Owl stood against
the warm bulk of the horse and stamped his feet from time to time to keep them from growing numb. He must stay alert. Survival would depend on the decision as to when to leave shelter. Too early, he would be trapped in the open with Cold Maker still raging. Too late, he would be caught on the plain, in full view of his enemies when daylight came.
the warm bulk of the horse and stamped his feet from time to time to keep them from growing numb. He must stay alert. Survival would depend on the decision as to when to leave shelter. Too early, he would be trapped in the open with Cold Maker still raging. Too late, he would be caught on the plain, in full view of his enemies when daylight came.
Impatiently, he waited. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he led the horse to the edge of the thicket and peered into the night. There were no landmarks visible in the dim white blur. Snow was still falling, but seemed less driven by the wind than previously.
An anxious thought struck him. With the wind diminishing, he would soon have no way at all to determine direction in the white expanse. Even after daylight, if the sky remained overcast, there would be loss of direction. He might easily travel in a circle, blundering back into
the camp of the enemy. He would have to start on before the wind died, even at the considerable risk of freezing.
the camp of the enemy. He would have to start on before the wind died, even at the considerable risk of freezing.
With a sigh of resignation, Owl grabbed a handful of the horse's mane and swung to the animal's back. He recognized this as a treacherous move on the part of Cold Maker to maneuver Owl into an exposed position again. He kicked the reluctant horse up out of the thicket and into the open.
The burning sting of the wind struck the left side of his face, and he wondered how he could have thought that the wind was abating. He nearly turned back to shelter, but realized he must not remain longer in the area. He turned a corner of his rabbit cape up around his face and the horse plodded ahead. Owl was careful to maintain direction of travel by keeping the force of the wind on his left. The horse continually tried to swing to the right, out of the stinging blast. Repeatedly, Owl pulled the animal's head around and enforced the action with a kick in the ribs.
It was not yet daylight when the wind died suddenly. Snow had diminished to an occasional fleck. Abruptly, Owl realized he had no idea which direction they were traveling. He could not let the horse's instinct take over. The animal would return to the Head Splitter's camp and its own kind. He stopped and dismounted, unsure of his next move. Nothing to do but wait until daylight, he supposed.
The muddy gray dawn found him standing in the middle of a flat white world. There was little to break the monotony of the snow-covered flatland, except for the marks of his horse's hooves wandering across the plain behind him. He hoped that further back the wind had covered the trail.
For a moment he considered continuing the general line of the wandering tracks, but then rejected the idea. He had no clear idea how long the horse might have attempted to change course before Owl noticed the absence of the guiding wind. He would need some sort of a sign to indicate direction.
Finally, he noticed, along the gray smudge of the horizon, a dirtier smudge. A long time he watched, as the blur became more prominent. That, he believed, would be the enemy village. The women would be building up the cooking fires as the morning routine took place. Families would be eating, and warriors would be looking after their horses in the aftermath of the storm. He devoutly hoped that the owner of this animal was a bit careless about his possessions. Perhaps the man would believe the horse had merely wandered away. Owl was certainly not equipped for pursuit or combat.
He looked at the animal actually for the first time in daylight. A clay-colored mare, sturdy in build and intelligent in appearance. She stood patiently, waiting for her rider to decide his next move. Owl liked the little mare's qualities. He only hoped that her previous owner had not regarded this as his best buffalo hunter. If she were one of his lesser animals, he would be more likely to accept the fact of her disappearance.
Anyway, he now had a mark, of sorts, to determine direction. He must put the camp of the enemy farther behind him, and at the same time head generally northeast. Eventually, in this way, he should encounter some band of the People. Or perhaps, he thought as he swung again to the back of the claybank mare, he could find a village of Growers. They often traded with everyone, and could possibly tell him of his tribe's location this season.
Sun Boy succeeded in breaking through the thick overcast at about midway through his daily arc. The thin rays from his torch gave scant comfort, but at least helped verify direction. Owl was pleased that his estimate had been nearly correct. He was traveling in a path only slightly more northerly than he had planned. He made a slight correction.
Some time later, when Sun Boy had again retreated behind the muddy gray nothingness, Owl was able to verify
direction by a flock of geese. High overhead, their long wedges drew a line straight as an arrow shot across the sky. He watched and listened to their raucous clamor until they disappeared from sight and earshot, heading north.
direction by a flock of geese. High overhead, their long wedges drew a line straight as an arrow shot across the sky. He watched and listened to their raucous clamor until they disappeared from sight and earshot, heading north.
He began to have some concern for his horse. He must, he knew, stop long enough for the animal to eat. Elk-dogs, it was known, were of a different sort than most animals. The deer, elk, and buffalo could all gorge themselves, and then retreat to methodically rechew and digest their meal at leisure. The elk-dog, however, must continually nibble. They were nearly always grazing, rather than bedding down like the other herd animals. White Buffalo would be proud that he remembered well. Just now, however, he must look for a stopping place for the night. It should furnish some degree of shelter as well as browse for the horse.
He finally saw the place, just before it became dangerously late. There was a dark gray-brown line of leafless trees and brush winding across the distant plain, marking the course of a stream. He turned the horse in that direction.
Before full dark, Owl had managed a fairly comfortable camp below the cutbank of the creek. There would be no pursuit at night in the snow, he reasoned, so he enjoyed the luxury of a fire. He stripped bark and small twigs from the cottonwoods along the stream and brought them to his carefully tethered mare. He must, at all costs, avoid the loss of the animal. The tired mare stood, eyes half-closed, contentedly chewing.
It was with a great deal of self-satisfaction that Owl finished his meager meal and took a last look along the back trail before rolling into his robes. He was all but satisfied that there was no pursuit.
The air seemed somewhat warmer. Cold Maker's medicine was weakening with the passing moons, he knew. Any storm after the start of the Moon of Awakening must be, no matter how intense, very short in duration.
And, best of all, he now possessed the means for rapid, efficient travel. In another moon, two at most, he could find his father's band and assume his position and duties as medicine man beside White Buffalo. Perhaps, he thought, he could even rejoin the People by the time of the Sun Dance in the Moon of Roses.
Aiee
, that would be a glorious reunion!
Aiee
, that would be a glorious reunion!
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