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Authors: James Welch

Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction) (13 page)

BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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White Man’s Dog turned around to face the old man. Mik-api sucked on his pipe and looked out the entrance at nothing in particular. His eyes crinkled as though he were straining to see something.
“I felt sorry for the poor man and, like a fool, said that I might know somebody who would keep her well. Of course, that person would have to hunt for the whole family now. But now that I think on it, perhaps there is nobody that rich and powerful among the Lone Eaters. Perhaps Yellow Kidney will have to seek out such a person among the Small Brittle Fats or the Hard Topknots. I understand there are among them a few young men rich and powerful enough.”
“Would you speak for me, Mik-api?” White Man’s Dog heard the voice far away. His heart was too far in his throat for the words to come from him.
“Slow down, you foolish young one. You’re getting as bad as me. First, you must go to your father and mother and tell them of your intentions. If they agree, I will talk to Yellow Kidney. But what makes you think Red Paint would want such a fool?”
White Man’s Dog suddenly slumped back. He remembered Little Bird Woman, Crow Foot’s daughter. But only Double Strike Woman had mentioned her as a possible wife. Perhaps Rides-at-the-door and Crow Foot were not aware of such an arrangement. Nothing had happened. He had not even spoken to Little Bird Woman. White Man’s Dog jumped up. “I will speak with them now, Mik-api. I’ll be back.”

 

Double Strike Woman argued that it would be advantageous for the two families to be united; that Little Bird Woman was sought after by many men, young and old; that she was built to bear many children.
“Just think of Crow Foot. Many say he will be the next head chief of the Pikunis. They say he is already more important than Mountain Chief, because Mountain Chief is always on the run.”
“I don’t mind you wanting to marry off this young man, but next time you will consult with me before you do such a thing.” Rides-at-the-door was angry. Most of the time, he left things in the lodge up to his sits-beside-him wife, but he too had been thinking of his son’s future. In truth, he had been just as surprised, shocked even, as Double Strike Woman at White Man’s Dog’s request. He hadn’t known of his son’s interest in Red Paint. And if he were to be honest with himself, he would have admitted that the idea was not appealing to him, not because of Red Paint but because White Man’s Dog would have to provide for the entire family.
“I only want what is best for my son,” said Double Strike Woman. “If he were to marry into Crow Foot’s family, he would have more opportunities.”
“You can see he doesn’t want Little Bird Woman. He wants to marry Red Paint. He is a man now.”
“And what about Yellow Kidney? He will have to marry Yellow Kidney, too, and support him and that whole family! People will make jokes. People will say, There goes Rides-at-the-door’s son, he marries whole families.”
“And what about you, my son? Do you think you can take such jokes?”
“They will not joke for long,” said White Man’s Dog.
Rides-at-the-door studied his son.

 

Kills-close-to-the-lake looked up from her quillwork. She had been following the conversation intently. In the brief silence, she too studied White Man’s Dog. Without thinking about it, she had been anticipating this time when White Man’s Dog would leave the lodge. But she couldn’t believe it was actually happening. With him gone, there would be nothing left for her. But there had been nothing anyway—only his presence and some vague hope. Now it was all gone.
“Your mother and I give you our permission, son. You may propose a marriage to Red Paint and her family. She is a good young woman and will make you happy.”
White Man’s Dog sneaked a look at his mother, but she was busy cutting meat. He stood and walked to the entrance. “Thank you,” he said. He looked down at Kills-close-to-the-lake, but she was bent over her quillwork. “Thank you,” he said again. He ducked out of the lodge and ran all the way to Mik-api’s.

 

Four sleeps later the families got together and exchanged gifts. White Man’s Dog gave Yellow Kidney three of his best horses. His father gave Yellow Kidney four horses, three ropes of tobacco and a full headdress he had taken from a Parted Hair. Yellow Kidney gave White Man’s Dog four horses and a beaded shirt. He gave Rides-at-the-door five horses and a Napikwan saddle. Double Strike Woman gave Red Paint a pair of white beaded medallions for her hair. She hugged the girl briefly.
Earlier, Rides-at-the-door had presented his new many-shots gun to White Man’s Dog. “You’re going to have to do a lot of hunting now.” White Man’s Dog then gave his single-shot to his father. “Between you and Running Fisher, you now have two shots.”
White Man’s Dog had left nothing to chance. The day before, he had gone to the camp of the Grease Melters to look up a man who specialized in Liars’ Medicine. The man constructed two bark figures—a man and a woman—and poured the magic liquid between them. That would ensure good loving. He charged his client a large packhorse he had noticed during the trade.

 

Now, on the twenty-third day of the new-grass moon, Red Paint moved her things into the small tipi beside the big lodge of Rides-at-the-door. That night the families and friends feasted on boss ribs and tongues and buffalo hump. One of the men had brought a tin of the white man’s water, and the feast soon turned loud and boisterous. White Man’s Dog drank the liquor and talked and laughed, but he was a little disappointed that Kills-close-to-the-lake and Mik-api were not there. Mik-api had said, “I am an old man. Celebrations are for the young.” White Man’s Dog drank some more and laughed louder. Red Paint sat beside him, twirling her feather fan. All the noise had made her shy—but more than that, she couldn’t believe she was a married woman. Less than seven sleeps ago, marriage had been the furthest thing from her thoughts. She had sought only to help her mother prepare for the Sun Dance. Could it have been only seven sleeps ago that she had touched White Man’s Dog’s arm and smiled at him? Even then she had no thought that this might happen. And tonight—tonight they would go to their own lodge. She had thought occasionally of what it would be like to lie with a man, but there had been no reality to it. Her mother had said it would happen naturally and it would be good with the right man. Would White Man’s Dog be the right man? She glanced at him and his face was shiny with sweat and oil. He sensed her eyes on him and turned. For a moment they looked upon each other; for the first time they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Red Paint lowered her eyes to the twirling fan.
White Man’s Dog stood and walked outside. He walked away from the lodge and stood in a small field. He smelled the fresh bite of sage grass and looked up at the stars, trying to locate the Seven Persons. His head was fuzzy with the liquor, but he became aware of a small hand on his. “The Seven Persons do not look upon us tonight,” he said softly.

 

“They ride to the west, over there,” said a voice that did not sound right to his ears. He turned and looked into the face of Kills-close-to-the-lake. Although she had not been at the feast, she was wearing her elkskin dress and rose medallions in her hair. The sharp sage grass gave way to the scent that made him light-headed. She said, “I am very happy for you, White Man’s Dog. I wish you to have this.” And she turned and hurried off into the dark.
He watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore. Then he unfurled the object. It was a soft-tanned scabbard for his new rifle. In the faint light of the fire-lit lodges, he could just make out the quillwork thunderbird design. Then the design blurred and he wiped his eyes.

 

Some time between the moon of flowers and Home Days, with the high hot sun turning the grass from green to pale straw, the Pikuni people began to pack up their camps to begin the four-day journey to Four Persons Butte near the Milk River. Here, the Sacred Vow Woman and her helpers had determined to build a lodge for the Sun Chief, and here they meant to honor him with sacred ceremonies, songs and dances.

 

Heavy Shield Woman had purchased the Medicine Woman bundle from her predecessor, and her relatives in the camps had procured the sacred bull blackhorn tongues.
On the first day the people assembled near the confluence of the Two Medicine River and Birch Creek. Most of the bands arrived within the compass of the midmorning and midafternoon sun. As each band arrived, members of the All Crazy Dogs, the police society, showed them where to set up. Soon a great circle was formed, as the last of the bands, the Never Laughs, filled the perimeter. The Sacred Vow Woman’s lodge was erected in the center and Heavy Shield Woman entered. Then the camp crier rode among the lodges, calling forth all the women who had vowed to come forward to the tongues. He beat his small drum and called for their husbands to accompany them. He stopped before the lodge of Heard-by-both-sides Woman, who had been a Sacred Vow Woman two years earlier, and called her to instruct Heavy Shield Woman in her duties.

 

When the chosen had been assembled in the lodge, Heard-by-both-sides Woman lifted one of the tongues above her head and asked Sun Chief to affirm that she had been virtuous in all things. All of the women did this. Then the dried tongues were boiled and cut up and placed in parfleches. Heavy Shield Woman began her fast.
The next day she led the procession to the second camp. On her travois she carried the Medicine Woman bundle and the sacred tongues. Four days they camped in four different locations, arriving at last on a flat plain beneath Four Persons Butte. Each day Yellow Kidney and the many-faces man, wise in the ritual of the Sun Dance, purified themselves in the sweat lodge.

 

The dawn of the fifth day, Low Horn, a celebrated warrior and scout, left his lodge, saddled his buffalo-runner and galloped down off the plain to the valley of the Milk River. As he rode, he examined the big-leaf trees around him. Across the river he spotted one that interested him. It was stout but not too thick. It was true and forked at just the right height. He looked at the tree, the way the sun struck it, and decided it was the chosen one.
When he reached camp—by now everyone was up and the breakfast fires were lit—he rode among the lodges, calling to the men of the Braves society. He ate a chunk of meat while the others saddled their horses. Then he led them back to the spot. Everybody-talks-about-him had been selected to chop it down, and he set upon it with his ax. He had killed many enemies. At midmorning, his bare back shiny with sweat, he gave a final blow and the tree groaned and swayed and toppled into a stand of willows. The men who had been waiting jumped upon the tree and began to slash and hack, cutting off the limbs as though they were the arms and legs of their enemies. Not too long ago, these would have been traditional enemies; now, more than one of the Braves was killing the encroaching Napikwans.

 

Heavy Shield Woman sat in the Sacred Vow lodge, her face drawn and gray with her fast. Soon it would be over, but the thought of food had become distant and distasteful. She listened to her helpers talk quietly among themselves, but the words were not clear to her ears. She prayed to the Above Ones, to the Below Ones and to the four directions for strength and courage, but each time she began her prayers, her mind drifted and she saw her husband as he had appeared at her lodge door after his long absence. She had greeted him with high feelings, with much crying, hugging and wailing. She was overjoyed to have her man return. But later, as they sat quietly, she had been surprised to feel only pity for him. He was not the strong warrior who had left camp in that moon of the falling leaves. This man was a shadow who looked at her with stone eyes, who no longer showed feelings of love or hate or even warmth. And he had not changed in the ensuing moons. He was no longer a lover, hardly even a father to his children. Was he still a man? Had a bad spirit taken him over? But she, Heavy Shield Woman, had changed too.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Heard-by-both-sides Woman and her husband, Ambush Chief. He carried the Medicine Woman bundle and would serve as ceremonial master during the transfer. When all the helpers, clad in gray blankets with red painted stripes, had seated themselves, Ambush Chief began to open the bundle, praying and singing as he did so. The first object he held up was the sacred elkskin dress. He sang of the origin of the garment while the women put the dress on Heavy Shield Woman. Then they draped an elkskin robe over her shoulders. One by one, he removed the sacred objects: the medicine bonnet of weasel skins, feather plumes and a small skin doll stuffed with tobacco seeds and human hair; the sacred digging stick that So-at-sa-ki, Feather Woman, had used to dig turnips when she was married to Morning Star and lived in the sky with him and his parents, Sun Chief and Night Red Light. She and Morning Star had an infant son named Star Boy.
Ambush Chief told of the time So-at-sa-ki, while digging turnips, had dug up the sacred turnip, creating a hole in the sky. She looked down and saw her people, her mother and father, her sister, on the plains and she grew homesick. Night Red Light, upon hearing of her daughter-in-law’s act, became angry, for she had warned Feather Woman not to dig up the sacred turnip. Sun Chief, when he returned from his journey, became angry with Morning Star, for he had not kept his wife from doing this, and so he sent Feather Woman back to earth to live with her people. She took Star Boy with her because Sun did not want him in his house. She also took the elkskin dress, the bonnet, the digging stick. She and her son rode down the wolf trail back to her people, and she was happy to be with them. She hugged them and rejoiced, for she was truly glad to be home. But as the sleeps, the moons, went by, she began to miss her husband. Each morning she would watch him rise up. She shunned the company of her mother and father, her sister, even her son, Star Boy. She became obsessed with Morning Star, and soon she began to weep and beg him to take her back. But each morning he would go his own way, and it was not long before Feather Woman died of a broken heart.
BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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