Child of the Dead (29 page)

“No, no!” protested Beaver Track. “Wait. I had no cause to laugh. Let us talk of this.”

Antelope turned back, still ruffled.

“Now, let us consider,” Beaver Track said seriously. “You can think of nothing you said or did to anger her?”

“No, Uncle. I have tried to remember. It seemed that suddenly, I could not say anything that was to her liking. I said that the day was good, and she said no, that it would rain.
Aiee
, if I had called the grass green, I am made to think Mouse would have said it was red.”

Beaver nodded thoughtfully. “You know, of course, that it is often so with women.”

“That is true, Uncle. But I know Mouse well. This is something else.”

“Yes … Antelope, this is sometimes …
aiee
, how can I say this? When a woman is with child …”

“No! I would know of that, Uncle.”

“But … she has other young men who would court her, no?”

Antelope’s anger rose, and he started to retort, but Beaver Track raised a hand calmly.

“No, no, Antelope, you must know that I had to ask.”

The young man struggled for control. “That is true, Uncle,” he said evenly, “but again, I would know. Mouse has talked to me, told me of her suitors. I am made to believe there is no one.”

“That is good,” Beaver agreed. “And you are probably right. After all, your grandmother is very strict with her.”

“Could you talk to Grandmother?” Antelope asked.

“Yes, of course,” his uncle agreed. “She may know.”

But Running Deer did not know.

“No, I have seen no other young men,” she told Beaver. “I knew about the lovers’ quarrel, but those happen. She has been spending much time with your cousin, White Rose, talking of girl-things. No, I am
made to think there is no problem. Give her time. After the Sun Dance, it will be as nothing.”

Beaver Track relayed this to his nephew, but Antelope was not convinced.

“Something is not right about this, Uncle. I will talk to Mouse myself.”

But it was easy to postpone such a conversation. He dreaded a repeat of the tirade, and the excitement and distraction of the pre-Sun Dance festivities continued. It was not until this, the first day of the actual ceremonies honoring the return of the sun and the grass, that Antelope determined to talk to Gray Mouse.

She was nowhere to be found.

“I have not seen her today,” his grandmother told him. “She stayed with our cousin last night.”

“Cousin? Which cousin?”

“Rose. White Rose, Northern band. Rose is to be married, you know, and Mouse was helping her sew …” But Dark Antelope was gone.

“Yes, she was at my mother’s lodge,” Rose told him. “We talked and sewed, and …”

“But where did she go this morning?”

“Today? I do not know, Antelope. I have not seen her.”

“Since this morning, you mean?”

“No, today. I did not see her today.”

“Wait! Mouse did not spend the night at your lodge?”

“No, no! When the light became too poor to sew, she went home.”

“I see …”In truth, he did not understand at all, but he was becoming quite concerned. He thanked his cousin and hurried to talk to Beaver Track.

But his uncle was otherwise occupied, dancing with his warrior society in the Sun Dance arbor. That might go on for a long time, and Antelope felt that he could not wait. He walked outside the camp, away from the noise of the drums and rattles and the chanting of the songs. What could be going on?

He thought about what little he really knew. Mouse had left the lodge of their grandmother a full day ago. She had been prepared to spend the night, so she would
have been carrying her sleeping robe. Yet White Rose had not mentioned it. Jealousy and anger rose in him as the next question struck him squarely.
With whom did she spend the night?

He was crushed, and his heart was very heavy. Mouse must have a secret lover. That was her privilege, of course, but
why?
Why secret? She was an eligible young woman. There were no taboos for her that would prevent a relationship with any man of the People. She was kin to none except by her adoption. That had been decreed. Even if her lover were already married, there was nothing to prevent a second wife, or a third.

Somehow, that did not seem to be an answer. Young women sometimes allowed themselves to be courted by an older man with an established lodge. But those were girls who were attracted by the wealth and position of their lover. They were also quite likely to flaunt the courtship, to make it as public as possible. That would not be the way of Gray Mouse. He knew her well, since childhood. Mouse would not be likely to engage in that sort of courtship anyway.

But why, then, the secrecy? There must be something that he was missing here. Was his head confused by his sorrow over Mouse’s secret lover? He tried to think who it might be, but came up empty. There was not one young man in whom she had shown any interest. No real interest, anyway. He must try to think, then, what else …?

His worst fear was that Mouse had met with some accident. Or could she have been stolen? There was always talk of such activity, though he could not remember such an incident. True, she was a very beautiful and desirable woman. But she had planned this, had she not? Her sleeping robe … but she had not arrived at the Northern band with that robe.
What else did she take?

He sought out Running Deer.

“Grandmother, what; did Mouse take with her last night?”

“Afternoon. She went over there about this time. You are worried … what is it, Antelope?”

“I do not know, Grandmother. No one has seen her. She did not spend the night with Rose.”

“
Aiee!
My baby! Wait … she did not go to our cousin’s?”

“She did, but she left before dark. Grandmother, do you think she has a lover?”

“No, no, I am made to think not.”

“Then what else did she take? Food?”

“Let us look!”

The two rummaged around the lodge and behind the lodge lining.

“I can see no food missing,” Deer said. “She had a bundle … Ah! her new dress!”

“But why?”

Deer shrugged. “I had thought maybe she wanted to show it to Rose. The quill-work, you know.”

He nodded, but another idea struck him now.

“Could she have gone on a hunt or a vision quest?”

“Surely she would have told us. Let me see …
weapons?”

Neither had thought of that, but a search brought a quick answer.

“Her bow and quiver, her little ax. Her knife, of course,” Running Deer stated. “What does this mean, Antelope?”

“I do not know, Grandmother. I will see if she took a horse. She would ride her bay, no?”

“Probably. Or my gray. But she has been using the bay.”

“She
has?
Since we came here to the Sun Dance?”

“Yes. Almost every day, Antelope. Since … well, since your quarrel. I thought you knew.”

“Grandmother, I will tell you if I find anything,” he said as he hurried away.

There were many bays in the horse herd. Far more than he remembered. The young herdsman was able to help, at least a little.

“Your sister’s gelding? She took it.”

“Took it? When?”

“Yesterday. No, maybe the day before. But either way, she did not bring it back. I suppose she traded it, no? A good horse, that one!”

“Then you have not seen her?”

“Ah, would I not remember seeing a woman like that? Tell me, Antelope, is she spoken for?”

But Antelope was gone. He hurried back to the Sun Dance arbor. Yes, the Bowstring Society had relinquished the arena to the Bloods, and Beaver Track was nowhere to be seen. Antelope hurried to his lodge.

“Uncle, I must speak with you!”

The older man appeared exhausted from the rigors of the dance, but quickly came alert as his nephew blurted out his story. He glanced quickly at the sun.

“
Aiee!
We have not much light left. Come.”

Beaver rose quickly, picked up his bow, and led the way.

I
t was some time later that the first track was located, on a sand bar near the water. Beaver Track had quickly described the procedure he would use.

“No horses would be moving
away
from the camp, except hers,” he explained. “If we can find a track or two, maybe we can tell which way she went. Oh, yes … is her dog with her?”

“I do not know, Uncle.”

“We will find out. Now, first, we will look for tracks along the stream.”

“But there are many …”

“That is true. But look, Antelope, if you start to travel, and want no one to see you, you would stay in the timber, no?”

Of course, now that it had been pointed out, it was easy to see. At some point, Mouse would have led or ridden her horse through the thin strip of timber along the river and would leave tracks.

“There it is!” exclaimed Beaver Track, pointing. “Now, stay back a little. Let me look.”

He squatted, studying the depressions in the sandy surface. Finally, he rose.

“Yes,” he mused, half to himself. “It is her horse. See how he paddles a little on the left front foot? And she was leading him, here.” He pointed to a slender footprint. “She went that way.”

“Toward Medicine Rock?”

“Maybe so.”

“Then let us go there, Uncle.”

Beaver Track thought about it for only a moment. “You are right, Antelope. There is not enough time before dark to track her there, but if we hurry, we may find something there.”

The two men mounted and rode to the Rock, arriving just before dusk.

“Be careful,” Beaver cautioned. “Let me look around. We do not want to spoil any tracks.”

It was only a moment, however, before he called out.

“She was here,” he stated. “Her footprints … a fire.”

“A fire?”

“Yes. A ceremony. Just a few sticks, maybe tobacco.”

“But why, Uncle?”

“Who knows? This was a prayer fire, though. Let me look for horse tracks.”

He waded across the riffle to study the other bank, a narrow strip along the base of the bluff. “Nothing,” he said, returning. “But I am made to think … Yes, I remember … A path up the cliff. Was it not downstream?”

They hurried in that: direction, and Beaver quickly discovered what he sought. “Yes, she crossed here. That is the trail to the top.”

“Then let us go up.”‘

“We should wait, Antelope. It is nearly dark, and the moon will not rise until later. We know she went this way, but at the top, we do not know, and we cannot track in the dark. We will come back in the morning. Oh, yes … her dog is with her now. There are tracks …”

They found the tracks at the top of the bluff the next morning as soon as it was light. Tracking was more difficult here, because the grass that covered the earth beneath did so more completely. It was short buffalo grass here, in contrast to the assortment of tallgrass species on the slopes and in the gullies. Finally Beaver
Track found that which he sought, and rose with a grunt.

“She went this way,” he pointed. “North. See, the horse tries to choose the best footing, so he chances on a trail, here. Other animals have found it the easiest way, too.”

He pointed to a barely visible strip of black earth which meandered across the flat between and among the patches of gray-green buffalo grass.

“See, her horse’s footprint …” He touched the edge of the circular mark, testing its texture. “Sometime early yesterday, maybe,” he concluded.

“Then let us hurry,” Antelope urged. “She has traveled a whole day!”

“That is true,” his uncle agreed. “But let us think on this, Antelope. If we move too fast, we will miss something. Besides, are you ready for a long journey? It may take many days just to catch up to her.”

“I have some meat,” Dark Antelope pointed to his pack. “A few days.”

“And I, too,” Beaver agreed. “So be it. Let us go on a little way. Maybe we can learn more. Do you know why she would do this?”

“No, Uncle. I … we quarreled.”

“Yes, I heard. That was odd, too. And her prayer fire, down below. One does that to start a quest or a journey.”

“You think she plans to travel far? But
why?”

“I do not know, Antelope. Maybe she only seeks solitude to fast and pray. A vision quest. But if that is it, we should be able to tell in a day or two, by how she travels.”

They moved on, following the dim game trail. To one unaccustomed to the plains, there would seem to be no trail at all. But the passage of elk, antelope, buffalo, and the predators that follow them has worn shallow grooves in the prairie sod over the centuries. An animal, headed in a given direction, will chance upon and follow these dim paths. It was only necessary for those who sought the missing girl to determine her general direction and then follow the lay of the land and their horses’ inclinations.

They found a spring gushing forth from a hillside,
where Mouse had dismounted and walked around for a little while.

“She rests her horse and lets him eat,” said Beaver Track, pointing to cropped grasses nearby. “Many dog tracks in the mud here, so she was here for a while.”

“That means …” began Antelope hesitantly.