Read Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction) Online

Authors: James Welch

Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction) (12 page)

BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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“But why don’t you move, Mad Plume? Away from these Napikwans. The Lone Eaters live a long way from them and are never tempted to fool with them. The game is thick in our country. The Black Patched Moccasins would be welcome to hunt with us.”
“Perhaps—it would be nice.” But White Man’s Dog saw the resigned look in his host’s eyes. It was odd, he thought, how Mad Plume was such a respected man during the Sun Dance ceremony, but within his own band he was powerless. White Man’s Dog looked up at the figures on the Otter Tipi, a sacred tipi, and he looked around at the faces of the people, and he realized there were things he was not old enough or experienced enough to understand.
He told Mad Plume and his ragged band of his mission, and they seemed to approve of Heavy Shield Woman’s vow. There was no woman among them who had made such a vow—nor among any of the bands—so she would be the Sacred Vow Woman at the summer ceremony.
“You will stay and feast with us, White Man’s Dog. Your father and I have been on the war trail together a couple of times. He was a young one then, but oh, he was brave....”
White Man’s Dog looked around at the faces and beyond them. He saw the ragged lodge and he saw the naked child playing with the piece of fur. A dog was licking the child’s face. “Yes,” said White Man’s Dog.
10
THE LONE EATERS had camped a short ride from Riplinger’s trading house. The lodges were set up around a bend in a grove of big-leaf trees, so they were not visible to the two other bands who were also trading. Whole families were gong to the trading house, their packhorses laden with robes, and coming back with the goods that would make their lives easier. The women traded for cloth, beads, paints, white man’s powder for cooking, kettles and pans, earrings and brass studs to decorate belts and saddles. The children came back with sweet sticks and knives and even some dolls. And the men acquired half-axes, files, hoop-iron, tobacco, ammunition and guns. There were not as many of the repeating rifles as they had expected, so most of them had to settle for the new single-shot seizer gun. These rifles were as heavy and long as their old muskets, but they fired cartridges, were easily loaded even on horseback, and fired most of the time. The greased shooters carried truer and farther than the old balls. There was some grumbling but most were happy to get this weapon, even at the price of fifteen prime hides.
Only a few of the important men of the Pikunis received many-shots guns. Riplinger had acquired eighteen of them, and he presented them as gifts to the chiefs and to others he deemed important. He often gave valuable things, such as saddles and guns, to the chiefs to ensure their future trade.

 

When Rides-at-the-door and his family entered the trading compound, Riplinger greeted him first in Blackfeet, then in the Napikwans’ tongue. He enjoyed seeing Rides-at-the-door and respected him as a smart man, one who had learned the English language during the treaty years. He was one of only three or four that Riplinger knew who spoke the language. The others had learned it in boarding schools, but Rides-at-the-door had picked it up from a missionary who had spent a couple of winters with the Pikunis before heading on to the Flathead country.
But Rides-at-the-door did not particularly like any Napikwans, and so he answered Riplinger’s questions with short, curt answers. He watched the trader sort through the hides, making piles according to grade. The trader’s son helped him tot up the figure; then he sent the son to accompany Double Strike Woman and Striped Face to the storeroom, followed by Running Fisher and Kills-close-to-the-lake.

 

“Where is your other son?” said Riplinger.
“Off hunting,” said Rides-at-the-door. He did not see any need to tell of White Man’s Dog’s mission.
Riplinger looked surprised. He hadn’t known a Pikuni yet who missed a trading day. “Well, your hides are good, Rides-at-the-door. They are worth many of my goods. I’m sure your women will find what they need. But come—I have a surprise for you.”
Rides-at-the-door followed the trader into his living quarters. He stood just inside the door.
“Would you like a drink?”
“I am not accustomed to it.”
Riplinger snorted. It was almost a laugh, but he managed to check himself. “Well, probably for the best. Don’t do anybody any good.” He was digging around in a closet. “Ah, here!” He held up a many-shots rifle. He walked over to Rides-at-the-door. “For you. Over and above the value of your hides. I have the cartridges for it in the next room.”
Before he turned to leave, Rides-at-the-door saw the trader’s wife standing in a doorway to another room. She was a younger woman, about the age of Striped Face, and she wore a calico dress that came down almost to the floor. Rides-at-the-door could just see her shiny black shoes beneath the hem. He glanced at her face. She was smiling but there was a look of fear in her eyes.

 

Back in the lodge, Double Strike Woman and Striped Face examined their new goods, sometimes exclaiming their admiration, other times speechless with awe. Even Kills-close-to-the-lake touched the new things. She smiled as she held a piece of red flannel to her cheek.
Rides-at-the-door watched them as he smoked and felt satisfied that they had made a good trade. From time to time he glanced over at the many-shots gun leaning against a tripod. Next to it rested a single-shot that he had gotten for White Man’s Dog. He was satisfied but also a little worried. White Man’s Dog was overdue. He should have been back two sleeps ago if he had ridden cross-country from the Black Patched Moccasin campsite. Perhaps he had decided to stay longer with one or two bands, or perhaps he had decided to try to see Fast Horse. That could be trouble. But White Man’s Dog was levelheaded and took his responsibility seriously. He would return soon.

 

Rides-at-the-door listened to the rifle fire and realized that he had been hearing it all afternoon, a steady hail of fire as the men tried out their new weapons. He got up and walked outside. Most of the men were down by the river, firing at bushes and rocks against a cliff on the other side. Running Fisher would be among them, shooting up his ammunition at things that did not need killing. But it was necessary to get used to a new gun. Rides-at-the-door remembered when he was a young man and had gotten his musket. He had used up all his powder and balls and had to wait several moons before he could get any more. Things were harder to come by then. He smiled. Perhaps he should go down and fire his own many-shots gun to get the feel of it. Instead, he walked off toward the trees behind camp to take a piss.
White Man’s Dog came that evening just as Sun Chief ended his journey. Families were getting together to feast and sing and to compare their new possessions. In the middle of camp, young men sat around a large fire, weapons across their laps, and sang wolf songs. Young women strolled arm in arm around the perimeter, sometimes doing a dance step, other times trailing a robe over the head of a young man. Running Fisher was part of a drum group, and he sang and watched the girls.

 

White Man’s Dog led the gray horse into camp, watching the various activities. From time to time, he heard the pop of a rifle or the taunting yodel of a young brave, meant to frighten an imaginary enemy.
A small boy fell in step with White Man’s Dog. “What happened to your horse?”
“He stepped on a sharp rock.” White Man’s Dog recognized the boy as One Spot, Red Paint’s younger brother. He wore only a breechcloth and moccasins. His cheeks were painted a bright yellow.
“Couldn’t you ride him?”
“Not since morning. He’s been lame all day.”
They walked in silence for a way. Then the boy said, “I have a faster horse,” and darted between two lodges to join some children who were playing with a gopher.
Rides-at-the-door greeted his son outside the lodge. He had been standing there, smoking, watching the drum group. “My son! It is good to see you.”
The two men embraced and White Man’s Dog knew his father had been worried. “I would have come sooner but I stayed a night with the Black Patched Moccasins. Then this horse came up lame. Mad Plume sends you his greetings.”
“Ah, a good man, Mad Plume. Come inside and eat, my son. Your mother has been worried about you.”
Later that night the two men walked over to the lodge of Three Bears. White Man’s Dog followed his father in and when he straightened up he was surprised to see so many people present. Three Bears sat at the head of the fire, away from the entrance.
“Welcome, my son. Come here and sit beside me. You have been gone too long.”
White Man’s Dog looked at his father. Rides-at-the-door smiled. And so the young man sat in the place of honor and told of all the greetings that had been sent to Three Bears and the Lone Eaters. He told them of Mountain Chiefs flight to Canada.
“Was Owl Child with them?”
“No one knew. But most felt he was, that the seizers had chased Owl Child and his gang to the camp of the Many Chiefs. That’s why they all had to run.”
Three Bears muttered his disgust. All the people fell silent. And that’s when White Man’s Dog noticed Red Paint. She was sitting beside her mother, a black cloth shawl over her head. He glanced at Heavy Shield Woman; then he looked around the group. Yellow Kidney was not among them. Although Red Paint was several paces away, this was the closest White Man’s Dog had been to her. She was watching him.
“And what about the purpose of your travels?”
White Man’s Dog looked at Three Bears as if he hadn’t understood. But he recovered his wits. “I went from band to band—the only people I didn’t see were the Many Chiefs—and they all expressed their approval. They were happy to learn of Heavy Shield Woman’s vow and of her good fortune in having Yellow Kidney return to her. They said they knew she was a virtuous woman and would help to make the Sun Dance ceremony a success. They also said they would do anything she required of them. Many prayers were said, and many of the women said they would assist Heavy Shield Woman.”
Three Bears picked up his medicine pipe. He looked at Heavy Shield Woman. “It would seem that all of our people are in agreement with your desire, sister. The way is clear for you to begin your preparations. You have witnessed the Sun Dance many times and you have seen the role of the Sacred Vow Woman. Many women would not accept such a role because the way is arduous. Only the strongest of our women have made such a vow, because one needs great strength to prepare for and carry out her duties. If you are successful, the Pikunis will prosper and enjoy favor with the spirit world. If you fail, if you are not strong or virtuous enough, great harm will come to us.” Three Bears looked slowly from face to face within the circle. “We are one, sister, in our approval. Do you accept the role of the Sacred Vow Woman?”
Heavy Shield Woman did not hesitate. “I made this vow in a time of great distress. My heart had fallen down, but I told my children that their father would return to them. I don’t know now if I believed it then. But I prayed to the Above Ones, to Sun Chief, to our Mother Earth, to allow my man to come home to me. My heart lightened somewhat because I knew the spirits had listened to me and took pity. They would not desert me and my children in our time of sadness. That’s when I came to you, Three Bears. I knew when I talked with you that Yellow Kidney would be returned.” Here, Heavy Shield Woman’s voice almost faltered as she thought of her pitiful husband. “That has happened, and so I say to you, and to the others present, I am strong and glad in my heart to be the Sacred Vow Woman.”
“We will smoke this pipe,” said Three Bears. “We will pray for our sister’s success.”

 

Outside the lodge, White Man’s Dog breathed in the fresh air and looked up at the stars. His father had stayed to talk with Three Bears. He looked at the stars and listened to the drumming and singing and he was happy. He would sleep well.
“I wish to thank you, White Man’s Dog.”
He turned his head to the voice and saw Heavy Shield Woman and Red Paint. He was too tired to be startled.
“I know your journey was long and you missed out on the trading. Your mother told me.”
“No, I—I wanted to make the journey. It was good.”
“Your words tonight set my heart at ease.” Heavy Shield Woman smiled, and White Man’s Dog felt the warmth of it. “There have been times when I wished another had made a similar vow. I would have gladly relinquished mine. But when I saw your face I knew there were no others and it made me happy.”
“The other women, they were happy too. They said Heavy Shield Woman is one of great resolve, of great virtue, of great, great ...”
The woman laughed at White Man’s Dog’s struggle for fine words. Red Paint laughed, and then he laughed. He laughed long and loud. He had never been this happy—or exhausted. His feet ached, he was weary in his bones, but being near Red Paint made even his weariness seem a thing of joy.
He wiped away the tears and Heavy Shield Woman said, “And thank you—for hunting for us. You can’t know—” She turned and walked away quickly.

 

Red Paint had not spoken and she didn’t speak now. She stepped forward and touched his arm. She smiled but there were tears in her eyes. Then she turned and followed her mother.

 

“And what about you, young man? Now that you are rich and powerful, it is time for you to take a wife.” Mik-api lay just inside the entrance to his lodge. The Lone Eaters had returned the day before to the Two Medicine River from the trading house, and the trip had tired him. The lodge skins were raised and he could see White Man’s Dog from where he lay.

 

White Man’s Dog sat just outside in the warm sun, rubbing an oily cloth over his new single-shot. He had been firing it earlier that morning, and he was still in awe of its power and accuracy. On his third shot, he had killed a prairie hen at a hundred paces. When he retrieved it, he found only a tangle of feathers and bone.
“As a heavy-singer-for-the-sick I encounter many people. Sometimes they want my healing, other times just to talk. They think they want me to tell them important things, but most often it’s the other way around. Just the other day I was invited into the lodge of my friend Yellow Kidney. In passing he mentioned that he would be forever grateful to you for sharing your kills with his family. I told him that you were now a man and becoming adept in the ways of medicine. I told him you had acquired power much stronger than that of the other young ones, that you would one day distinguish yourself among our people. Of course, I was joking to cheer the poor man up.”
White Man’s Dog smiled.
“Then I happened to notice Red Paint, who sat across the lodge engaged in her beadwork, and I mentioned that it was too bad our young women seem to favor these beads over quillwork. Yellow Kidney agreed with me but said Red Paint did it for others in exchange for goods. Then he became very sad and held up his fingerless hands and said that he was worse than useless to his family, that Red Paint would grow up poor and no man would have her.”
BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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