Read Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction) Online
Authors: James Welch
Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction) (14 page)
BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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As Star Boy began to grow up, a scar appeared on his face. The older he grew, the larger and deeper the scar grew. Soon his friends taunted him and called him Poia, Scar Face, and the girls shunned him. In desperation he went to a many-faces man who gave him directions to Sun Chiefs home and whose wife made Scar Face moccasins for his journey. After much traveling, he reached the home of Sun Chief far to the west. Sun had just returned from his long trip across the sky and he was angry with Scar Face for entering his home. Sun Chief decided to kill him, but Night Red Light interceded on behalf of the unlucky young man. Morning Star, not knowing the youth was his son, taught him many things about Sun and Moon, about the many groups of Star People. Once, while on a hunt, seven large birds attacked Morning Star, intending to kill him, but Scar Face got to them first, killing them. When Morning Star told his father of this brave deed, Sun Chief removed the scar and told the youth to return to his people and instruct them to honor him every summer and he would restore their sick to health and cause the growing things and those that fed upon them to grow abundantly. He then gave Poia two raven feathers to wear so that the people would know he came from the Sun. He also gave him the elkskin robe to be worn by a virtuous medicine woman at the time of the ceremony. Star Boy then rode down the wolf trail to earth and instructed the Pikunis in the correct way, and then he returned to Sun’s home with a bride. Sun made him a star in the sky. He now rides near to Morning Star and many people mistake him for his father. That is why he is called Mistake Morning Star. And that is how the Sun ceremony came to be.
While Ambush Chief related this story of Scar Face, three helpers were building an altar near the lodge door. They stripped off the sod and dry-painted Sun, Moon and Morning Star. They painted sun dogs on either side of Sun’s face to represent his war paint. Then the helpers chanted and shook their rattles to pay homage to Sun and his family. When they finished, Ambush Chief stood and lifted his face.
“Great Sun! We are your people and we live among all your people of the earth. I now pray to you to grant us abundance in summer and health in winter. Many of our people are sick and many are poor. Pity them that they may live long and have enough to eat. We now honor you as Poia taught our long-ago people. Grant that we may perform our ceremony in the right way. Mother Earth, we pray to you to water the plains so that the grass, the berries, the roots may grow. We pray that you will make the four-leggeds abundant on your breast. Morning Star, be merciful to your people as you were to the one called Scar Face. Give us peace and allow us to live in peace. Sun Chief, bless our children and allow them long lives. May we walk straight and treat our fellow creatures in a merciful way. We ask these things with good hearts.”
Before they left the lodge, the helpers with brushes obliterated their dry paintings, just as Sun had removed the scar from Poia.
Red Paint stood next to her husband and watched the procession. The ground was already becoming dusty from the people and horses. Earlier the people had been busy setting up their lodges, getting water from the clear, deep creek that came out of Four Persons Butte, gathering firewood. But now they were all here, watching the procession, moving to the beat of a single small drum. Red Paint was shocked at how old and bent her mother looked. She wasn’t even certain that the woman was her mother. Her face was hidden by the hanging weasel skins. Two helpers held her up.
The procession circled halfway around the unfinished Medicine Lodge. Then they entered a sun shelter to the west of it. Here, the tongues were distributed to the sick, the poor, the children, to all who desired such communion. The women who had vowed to come forward to the tongues opened the parfleches and distributed pieces to the faithful. Heavy Shield Woman, weak from her lack of food, watched the people chew the tongues and she prayed, moving her lips, without words.
It was nearly dark by the time the men of the warrior societies began the task of erecting the center pole of the Medicine Lodge. With long poles they advanced from the four directions, singing to the steady drumbeat. With rawhide lines attached to their poles, they raised the cottonwood log until it stood in the hole dug to receive it. Heavy Shield Woman watched the proceedings with prayers and apprehension, for if it failed to stand straight, she would be accused of not being a virtuous woman. But it did stand, and the men began hurriedly to attach it to posts and poles around the perimeter of the lodge. Younger men began to pile brush and limbs over the structure. Now Heavy Shield Woman sighed and slumped into the arms of two of her assistants. They carried her back to her lodge, where the hot berry soup awaited her. She could break her fast.
For the next four days the weather dancers danced to the beat of rattles against drum. Warriors enacted their most courageous exploits and hung offerings on the center pole. For each deed they placed a stick on the fire until it blazed high night and day. In other lodges Sacred Pipe men and Beaver Medicine men performed their ceremonies for those who sought their help.
All day and into the night, young men in full regalia paraded their horses around the perimeter of the enormous camp. The All Crazy Dogs had a difficult time policing the grounds. But they had discovered none of the white man’s water in the encampment, and for that they were grateful. Sometimes they even had time to enter into the stick games that were being played. Throughout the night, the taunting songs of the various sides increased in volume as the stakes grew higher. During the day there were many horse races. Bands raced against each other, societies had their own horses and riders. The betting was heavy and some men lost their entire herds and possessions, even their weapons. Fights broke out over the close races and the All Crazy Dogs moved in, scattering the participants in all directions. And always there were the drums, the singing and dancing.
White Man’s Dog awoke at dawn one day with a terrible dread in his heart. He had eaten and drunk nothing the previous day and he could hear his stomach rumble. He sat up in the robes and his body was wet with sweat. The days and even the nights had been hot, but this sweat had nothing to do with heat. He sat up and listened to the steady
thunk! thunk! thunk!
of a single drum. It was the only sound in camp and it was not a call to celebrate but to let the people know where they were.
thunk! thunk! thunk!
of a single drum. It was the only sound in camp and it was not a call to celebrate but to let the people know where they were.
White Man’s Dog looked down at Red Paint. Her loose dark hair fell down around her shoulder. He touched the soft skin. His hand was rough and dark, and it seemed to him that the hand and the shoulder were made of two different substances. He was awed by the power of their lovemaking, and as he looked at her neck and shoulder he was filled with desire. The quiet camp seemed far away to him as he lay back down and reached for and fondled her breasts. He wanted her to wake up and he wanted this dawn to last. But then the thought of the day’s ceremony entered his mind and his desire left him.
He stood at the back of the perimeter of lodges and peed. To the east, the first streak of orange crossed the sky. He smelled the prairie grass and the sagebrush and the sweet mustiness of the horses who watched him. He listened to the clear song of the yellow-breast crouched in the grass to his right. Two long-tails flew through the sky toward Four Persons Butte, their black-and-white bodies bobbing lightly through the morning sky. He looked back toward the camp. Most of the outer lodges were unpainted, or had simply painted designs of ocher earth, black sky and yellow constellations. The sacred tipis of Beaver, Blackhorn, Bear and Otter were on the inside of the perimeter, facing the Medicine Lodge. As he watched the sky lighten, the wisps of smoke grew fainter. White Man’s Dog stood in the quiet dawn, his heart beating strong with all the power of the Pikunis. He felt ready for the ordeal ahead of him.
Mik-api sat back on his haunches and looked down at White Man’s Dog. They were in a brush shelter just to the side of the big Medicine Lodge. The black paint dots trailing from the corners of the young man’s eyes glistened in the dappled sunlight. Mik-api looked satisfied. He and two other old men, Chewing Black Bones and Grass Bull, had painted White Man’s Dog’s body white with double rows of black dots down each arm and leg. On his head they placed a wreath of sage grass and bound the same grass around his wrists and ankles. As the tear paint dried on his cheeks, the old men prayed that he would acquit himself well so that Sun Chief would smile on him in all his undertakings.
Then they led him into the Medicine Lodge and he lay down on a blanket on the north side of the Medicine Pole. He heard a man on the other side recite war honors, and he felt the hands of Mik-api and Grass Bull on his arms. Chewing Black Bones knelt over him with a real-bear claw longer than a man’s finger. The man reciting war honors stopped. White Man’s Dog looked into Mik-api’s eyes and bit his lower lip. He felt the searing pain in his left breast as Chewing Black Bones pierced it with the bear claw. His breathing made a hissing sound in the quiet lodge. Again he felt the claw pierce his flesh, this time on the right breast. His eyes were squinted tight but the tears leaked from them. And now he felt the sarvisberry sticks being pushed under his skin and he looked down and saw the rich blood pouring down onto his arms. Mik-api and Grass Bull helped him up and held him as Chewing Black Bones attached the rawhide lines that hung from the top of the Medicine Pole to the skewers in his breasts.
“Now go to the Medicine Pole and thank Sun Chief for allowing you to fulfill your vow.”
White Man’s Dog approached the pole and thanked Sun for helping him on his raid and for protecting him. He asked for forgiveness for desiring his father’s young wife and he saw Kills-close-to-the-lake that night running from him and he asked her forgiveness too. He felt his head get light and he almost collapsed with pain. He thanked Sun for his fine new wife and vowed to be good and true to all the people. Finally, he asked Sun to give him strength and courage to endure his torture. Then he backed away from the pole and began to dance. He danced to the west, toward the lodge door. He danced to the drum and rattle. From somewhere behind him he heard the bird-bone whistle of a many-faces man, and he felt the sticky warm blood coursing down from his wounds. Then he heard the drum speed up and he danced harder, pulling harder against the lines attached to his breasts. He danced and twisted and pulled and when he thought he couldn’t stand the pain the left skewer broke loose, swinging him around to his knees. He bit his lip until he tasted blood mixed with the salty tears running down into his mouth over the black painted tears. He pushed himself up to his feet again and danced to the east, away from the door. He leaned away from the Medicine Pole and jerked his body back and forth, but the second skewer would not give. His head was fuzzy with red and black images and only the pain kept him there in the lodge. Then he saw the dawn and the long-tails and the patient horses. He heard the yellow-breast singing in his ears and then it turned into a voice, loud and deep, and it recited the victories it had gained over its enemies. Raven flew into the lodge and sat down between Red Paint and Kills-close-to-the-lake. One more step, he cawed, think of Skunk Bear, your power—and he felt the other skewer pull free and he fell backward into the darkness.
Mik-api rose and cut the bloody skewers from their rawhide tethers. Small strips of flesh hung from them. He carried them to the Medicine Pole and laid them at the base. “Here is the offering of White Man’s Dog,” he said. “Now he is for certain a man, and Sun Chief will light his way. His friend Mik-api has spoken to you.”
White Man’s Dog slept that night by himself a good distance from the encampment of the Pikunis. His wounds were raw and swollen and his stomach had become a small knot, for he had still not eaten. In the distance he could hear the thundering rumble of the drums as the dancing picked up. He lay in his robe on the flat ground and watched Seven Persons and the Lost Children in the night sky. To the east, Night Red Light had risen full over the prairie. Once he saw a star feeding, its long white tail a streak across the blackness.
Then he was dreaming of a river he had never seen before. The waters were white and the sky and ground glistened as though covered with frost. As he watched the white water flow over the white stones, his eye caught a dark shape lying in the white brush. Then he was down beside the water and the wolverine looked up at him with a pitiful look.
“It is good to see you again, brother,” he said. “I have got myself caught again and there is no one around but you.”
“But why is it so white, Skunk Bear?” White Man’s Dog had to shield his eyes from the glare.
“That’s the way it is now. All the breathing things are gone—except for us. But hurry, brother, for I feel my strength slipping away.”
White Man’s Dog released the animal for the second time.
Skunk Bear felt of his parts and said, “All there. For a while, brother, I thought I was a shadow.” Then he reached into his parfleche and took out a slender white stone. “For you, brother. You carry that with you when you go into battle, and you sing this song:
“Wolverine is my brother, from Wolverine I take my
courage,
Wolverine is my brother, from Wolverine I take my
strength,
Wolverine walks with me.
BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
3.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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