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Authors: James Welch

Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction) (2 page)

BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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2
“HAIYA! Dog-lover! Have you seen a ghost?”
White Man’s Dog stopped. In the dark he saw a tall figure approach. It was Fast Horse.
“Here, near-woman! I have some white man’s water to warm you up.” Fast Horse had his arm away from his body under his robe. As he neared, his arm snaked out and hit White Man’s Dog in the belly. “I joke!” He laughed. “I thought you needed some cheer since you don’t have a woman.”
“I wouldn’t need you for anything—even if you were a woman.”
“Ah, you will think twice about that. I have some news that will warm you up better than a woman.” Fast Horse showed his teeth and walked on by.
“You have found a way to make love to skunks.”
“Ha!”
“What news?” White Man’s Dog called after him.
“Come, catch up. I can’t talk so close to camp.”
Near a thicket of silver willows Fast Horse stopped and squatted on his heels. The grass was beginning to shine from the dew. “It is this. Yellow Kidney leads a party tomorrow night against the Crow horses. He says the Crows are fat and lazy. They have meat and horses but no many-shots guns. He says they tremble like women because the Napikwans threaten to beat them up.”
“What do I care about this?”
“Yellow Kidney knows I bring strong medicine, the same medicine my father has attained from the wood-biter. Soon I will be a very important man. Many women already find me attractive but their fathers know I am without wealth. I shall acquire this wealth from the fat Crows.”
“You brag yourself up,” said White Man’s Dog. “Is that why you talk to me?”
“I told Yellow Kidney I would bring along my poor relative. I told him White Man’s Dog is good for holding horses. After a couple of smokes he agreed. He agreed that you have much heart but are unlucky. So you shall be our cook. You will run errands and wait on Yellow Kidney because he is an experienced horse-taker and has made war on our enemies many times, often against the Crows. He has made the Snakes cry, and the Cutthroats too. He leads us only because he is bored with his wives.”
“How many horses will I get?”
“As many as you can drive. The Crows are thick with horses. Of course, the good buffalo-runners will belong to those who sneak into camp and cut them loose. I will get one of the best.”
White Man’s Dog grew excited, but at the same time he didn’t like the way Fast Horse talked. He had one winter on Fast Horse and in the past had beaten him up. But now Fast Horse seemed chosen beyond his accomplishments. It was because of his father’s Beaver Medicine bundle, one of the most powerful bundles among the Pikunis. Soon Fast Horse would learn the ways of this bundle and someday inherit it. He would be powerful and, like him or not, the people would come to respect this power. White Man’s Dog sighed and squatted back against a big-leaf tree. His words were not much louder than the distant mumble of the Two Medicine River. “I have been without luck for many moons, Fast Horse. More than two winters ago I went to seek my animal helper. I sweated, I prayed, I fasted, I smoked to him. And on the fourth night he did come—but he only came to look at me. He came close and I smelled his sour breath, I saw his yellow eyes, but he didn’t speak to me. He gave me no song, no vision. He just looked and then he went away before I could offer him a smoke.”
Fast Horse sat back and folded his legs. He had heard this story before and knew there was no end to it. The story would remain incomplete. He also knew that many had failed in their first fasting and had returned successful from their second or third. “You place too much importance on this one animal. As you can see, he offers you no help. You would do well to seek another—one with real power, like mine.”
“Yes, you speak true, Fast Horse. But I feel that one day he will come to me and offer up his strength. Perhaps he is testing me to see if I am worthy.”
Fast Horse laughed. “I will give you strength, dog-lover. I will make you wealthy in horses, Crow horses. We will make those Crows cry. Perhaps we will make their women cry too.”
“You do not hear me. Without my good medicine I am afraid of the Crows. They will surely kill me, and our relatives in the Sand Hills will say, Here comes the coward, he was afraid of the Crows. I am not fit for such a party.”
Fast Horse smiled as he looked toward the dark clouds in the Always Winter Land. Night Red Light had risen above the bluffs downriver. She showed only a sliver of her face. “I have already thought of a way to make your medicine good again, my friend. Before I came out here I spoke with Mik-api, and he asks us to build a sweat lodge first thing when Sun Chief lightens the sky. He will perform a ceremony, and he says he has some strong medicine to make you brave. He wishes us to bring our weapons.”
White Man’s Dog felt his blood move faster in his heart. Mik-api was a great and powerful many-faces man. He had often made men of puny heart strong again. For the first time in many moons White Man’s Dog felt a surge of hope quicken his blood.
“Fast Horse, I don’t know how you did this, but you have lifted my spirit. Surely Mik-api will work his magic on us and make us successful.”
“I promised him we would each bring him four of the Crow horses. It will go hard on us if we don’t.” Fast Horse stood quickly and pushed White Man’s Dog over. “Now go to your father’s lodge and dream of all those women you desire. With the Crow horses they will be yours and you won’t have to mount the dogs.”
The wind had picked up and suddenly gusted around them, rattling the bare limbs of the big-leaf trees. White Man’s Dog looked up and the stars were brighter.
“One more thing. No words to anyone about tomorrow night. Our women will try to talk us out of it. They will say we are needed to hunt. Youngsters will try to join us to gain glory for themselves. Old ones will say we are foolish, with Cold Maker putting on his hunting clothes.” Fast Horse looked off to the north, considering the churning clouds. Then he grinned and shouted above a wind gust, “Yellow Kidney says we can reach Crow country in fifteen sleeps. Haiya, we shall make them cry!”

 

That night Rides-at-the-door sat in his accustomed place opposite the lodge entrance. Amid the confusion of the feasting, the storytelling and banter, he had been silently watching his elder son. He had not seen him so lively in a long time. White Man’s Dog engaged in the teasing and mocking and gave as good as he got. At first, Rides-at-the-door thought his son had gotten into some white man’s water, the Napikwans’ whiskey that made men foolish. But he knew that none among the Lone Eaters band of the Pikunis had traded recently with the Napikwans. And, too, White Man’s Dog did not act foolish, just different. Rides-at-the-door knocked the ashes from his short-pipe. For so many sleeps, moons, his elder son had been morose, even timid, and there was talk around that he might choose the coward’s way, that he would never strike the enemies. No one said this directly to Rides-at-the-door, but he knew; one always knows these things. As he refilled his pipe, he glanced over at his younger son, Running Fisher. He was the one they talked about. At sixteen winters he had already taken two horses from the Cutthroats, including one heavy spotted horse that he was training to be a buffalo-runner. He was tall and wiry and the girls pointed him out. Men teased him but not too far, while the women made sure their daughters crossed his path as often as possible. Only the young men were wary of him.

 

Rides-at-the-door pulled a burning stick from the fire and lit his pipe, his eyes shifting back to White Man’s Dog, who was telling a story about Napi, Old Man. As he watched his son act out the story, he felt a small seed of optimism grow in his chest. Kills-close-to-the-lake was bending over White Man’s Dog now, placing a bowl of meat before him. As he leaned back against the willow backrest, Rides-at-the-door allowed himself to hope that the change he was seeing tonight was a real beginning.
3
YELLOW KIDNEY SQUATTED beneath a cutbank out of the wind and watched Seven Persons turn in the northern sky. He smoked his short-pipe and listened to the mutterings of the four other men. They waited a short distance from camp for Fast Horse and White Man’s Dog. Of them all, only Eagle Ribs was an experienced horse-taker. He was a young man of twenty-four winters and had accompanied Yellow Kidney on a raid against the Parted Hairs two summers ago. He was shorter than most Pikuni men but he was thick in the legs and waist. His strength and balance made him the best wrestler in camp. As a youth he had thrown twelve young men, one after another, on their backs during a Sun Dance contest. He had won many possessions, including the long brass-handled knife he now wore in his belt. But Yellow Kidney had chosen him not for his strength but for his scouting ability. He could see without being seen and he knew what he saw. He would give an accurate accounting of the enemy.
Yellow Kidney ran his fingers over the butt stock of his many-shots gun. It would be the only gun among the horse-takers. Although a couple of the young men had muskets and Eagle Ribs had a single-shot, they were too cumbersome and inefficient for a quick strike against the Crows. So the rest of the men carried bows and knives. They also carried several pairs of extra moccasins, awl and rawhide, and enough pemmican to last them a few days should game be scarce or they need to eat on the run. Yellow Kidney opened his parfleche. The skin pouch inside contained forty greased shooters. He liked its heavy feel. He had not had the many-shots gun long enough to see what it would do to an enemy, but it shot true and it had brought down many blackhorns. He dropped the cartridge pouch back into the parfleche and one last time felt for his paints and small medicine bundle. They were there.
He heard a call and in the quarter-moon light he saw the two young men approach. He stood and slung his robe pack over his shoulder. It was only now that he admitted to himself his two concerns. He did not like to have an unlucky man on this trip. Bad luck, like the white-scabs disease, can infect others. He had only agreed to take White Man’s Dog along because he respected his father; Yellow Kidney would have to be alert for signs of bad medicine and turn the party around if the signs mounted up. But his real concern focused on Fast Horse. He was boastful and reckless and he wanted too much. Such a man in a small party like this could bring disaster down on all of them. Yellow Kidney did not like to begin such a long journey with these feelings.

 

The small group of men walked steadily all night and all the next day. The high, rolling plains offered easy going, and Yellow Kidney wanted to make time while they were fresh. He knew of a war lodge just below Red Old Man’s Butte. It was in a stand of small pines and would give them enough cover and comfort for a good rest. They would come upon it before Sun Chief hid behind the Backbone, time enough perhaps to kill an animal for food.
The four-leggeds were many that day. They saw four large herds of blackhorns and several smaller herds of prairie-runners and wags-his-tails and once, on a bluff to the west, bighorns. In a draw that drained toward the Bear River they scared up a kit fox and Yellow Kidney took this as a good sign, for the fox was known to give men cunning. It was said that those to whom the fox came in dreams would become strong leaders.

 

Later that day a pair of golden eagles followed the party for a way, and again Yellow Kidney felt good, for they would give him eyes to see far off. Part of his war medicine was in the two eagle feathers he wore in his hair. But he was glad when the eagles turned away to their home in the Backbone. Any nearby raiding party would also be watching the large birds and wondering what they found so interesting to follow.
Finally, with Sun Chief still high in the western sky, they came within view of Red Old Man’s Butte. From their angle it looked like a small sloping mountain with the top knifed off. Eagle Ribs ran ahead to scout, to make sure no enemies occupied the war lodge, for it was well-known to the Snakes and the Flatheads. The rest of the men found shelter in a cutbank below a wind that had turned chilly. As they sat and smoked, they looked to the north and saw the clouds had begun to move down. But they were high thin clouds that did not contain moisture. Fast Horse stood and walked a short way down the draw; then he turned and walked back.
“I had a dream two sleeps ago,” he said. He addressed them all but he looked at Yellow Kidney. “In this dream Cold Maker came down from Always Winter Land. He came with the wind. He was all dressed up in white furs and he was riding a white horse. He carried a lance made of ice and a shield of hoarfrost that one could see through. At first I was frightened, for I was certain that he had come to kill me. I asked him to take pity on me, to allow me to live a full life. He laughed, and his laughter sounded like ice breaking up on the river. As you know, I am not afraid of anything in this world—I would make the Crows cry all by myself—but that laugh so filled me with fear that I fell down and trembled, waiting for him to stab me with that ice spear.”
Fast Horse looked from face to face, challenging them to scorn him. But the men looked up at him with wide eyes, as though they shared his fear.
Fast Horse smiled then. “You understand my fear in the presence of one so powerful. But this story ends happily, for you as well as me. Cold Maker said, ‘Rise up and look at me, young man. I know you go in two sleeps to raid the Crow horses. I have chosen to help you, and now I will tell you how to be successful. Give me a pipeful of your tobacco.’ My fingers were numb with the cold he had brought with him but I managed to fill my pipe and light it for him. ‘I have no tobacco in my home,’ he said. After he smoked awhile, he told me this: ‘There is an ice spring I keep hidden in the rocks on the side of Woman Don’t Walk Butte. I like to drink there once in a while. It gives me strength. But now a big rock has fallen over it, and blow as hard as I can, I cannot dislodge it. I know you two-leggeds, puny as you might be, possess the cunning to move that rock.’ He handed me back my pipe and it was so cold it burned my fingers. Then he said, ‘If you do this for me, I will make your raid successful. As you drive the Crow horses home, I will cause snow to fall behind you, covering your tracks. But you must find my spring and remove the rock. If you don’t, you must not go on, for I will punish you and your party. Either way, because I offer my help, you must bring me two prime bull robes for my daughters during the helping-to-eat moon. It will go hard on you if you do not do this.’ ”
The young men looked at each other with both fear and excitement. White Man’s Dog stood. “Fast Horse, there are many springs around Woman Don’t Walk. How will we know which is the right one?”
“There is only one that is covered with ice. So said Cold Maker.” Fast Horse looked around the group with pride. “I will lead you to it. Even dog-lover here will drink from it and maybe steal himself a Crow woman. Next to the Liars they make the best lovers.”
The young men laughed but Yellow Kidney did not. This dream was a complication he did not like. He had always been confident in his own medicine, and he was confident in his ability to lead these youths. Still, such a power dream could not be ignored. What if they could not find the ice spring? What if they could not move the rock?
He heard a whistle and looked up. Eagle Ribs had returned and was motioning them forward. Yellow Kidney climbed up out of the cutbank. “Any sign?”
“There was a party in the lodge not long ago. The ashes were high and I found this.” Eagle Ribs handed him a brass powder horn. It was filled with stinking-fire.
Yellow Kidney replaced the cap. “Napikwan. I have never known the white men to use a war lodge.”
“More likely one of the Snakes took it from a Napikwan. There were many moccasin tracks but no white-man shoes.”
Yellow Kidney handed back the brass container. “You have taken the first spoils, Eagle Ribs. It goes good for you.”
Eagle Ribs smiled, something he didn’t do very often. “There are also many wags-his-tails on the other side of Red Old Man. They are fat and do not look around.”
“Good. You and I will kill one while the others fix up the war lodge.”
The lodge was a frame of long poles tied together at the top. It was set in a stand of pines overlooking the eastern plains. The young men gathered brush and cut boughs, building from the bottom up until the poles were covered and only the dark mass separated it from the surrounding trees. By the time they got the fire started, Yellow Kidney and Eagle Ribs were back with a female wags-his-tail. They brought only the hindquarters and heart and liver. That night they feasted and told stories. One of the men had brought cold roasted turnips. Fast Horse said that White Man’s Dog should save his because the Crow women liked to sit on them. Maybe one would sit on White Man’s Dog’s turnip.

 

On the fifth day out they came to the head of the Little Prickly Pear where it empties into the Big River. A short distance to the southwest lay the holdings of Malcolm Clark. Yellow Kidney had told how, before turning to ranching, Clark had been a trader among the Pikunis and had married Cutting-off-head Woman. The Indians called him Four Bears and the chiefs respected him, but he was also known for his ruthless ways and bad temper. Now he raised whitehorns and had a big say with the Napikwan chiefs.
Yellow Kidney decided to ford the Big River downstream from Clark’s holdings, not because he was afraid of Clark but because he wanted to stay far north of the Napikwan town at Many-sharp-points-ground. There the big chiefs hated and feared the Pikunis and wished to exterminate them. They wanted the Pikuni lands. They wanted the blue-coated seizers to ride up and shoot all the Pikunis so that they could graze their whitehorns. The Pikuni chiefs had already signed away much of their territory. Yellow Kidney had been at the treaty place at the mouth of the Big River and had watched everything. He remembered how the people were happy because the Napikwans promised them many goods in exchange for their land. When the wagons came filled with crates, the people gathered around and the Indian agent began to hand out small things. Cut beads, iron kettles, knives, bells, the ice-that-looks-back, carrot and twist tobacco, a few blankets. All the chiefs got Napikwan saddles to go with their medallions. Then the Napikwans gave the people some of their strange food: the white sand that makes things sweet, the white powder, the bitter black drink. The people were happy, for they knew these white men would come often to hand out their goods. Even Yellow Kidney had been happy. Along with the others, he agreed with the white big chief that the Pikunis should raise the puny whitehorns and dig and plant seeds in the breast of Mother Earth. Along with the others, he knew that the Pikunis would go away and hunt the blackhorns as they always had. But their agreement had made the white chiefs happy, for now the Napikwans could move onto the Pikuni lands. Everyone was happy.

 

Yellow Kidney watched the young men as they chopped down some small spear-leaf trees. These are good human beings, he thought, not like Owl Child and his bunch. His face grew dark as he thought this. He had been hearing around the camps of the Pikunis that Owl Child and his gang had been causing trouble with the Napikwans, driving away horses and cattle, and had recently killed a party of woodcutters near Many Houses fort. It would be only a matter of time before the Napikwans sent their seizers to make war on the Pikunis. The people would suffer greatly.
At last the young men had enough logs to make a small raft. They lashed the logs together with rawhide and dragged the raft into the water. The men yelped and hooted when the flimsy logs began to float. Then they stripped and piled their clothes, weapons and packs on the raft. They pushed off and swam with the raft, kicking and pushing to the opposite shore. The current carried them downstream, but soon they beached the raft in an eddy behind a sandbar. That night they built a fire in a stand of willows and roasted the rest of the deer meat. There was little talk.

 

The ninth day they didn’t move. They were in the land of many enemies, and so they would travel only at night. They spent the day in a grove of alders by the Sweet Grass River. A short distance to the west, the Unfaithful Mountains loomed black against the blue sky. While some of the men dozed, others did the small chores that had been neglected during their journey. Eagle Ribs cut some rawhide soles and sewed them with awl and sinew to his two pairs of walked-through moccasins. Medicine Stab, the silent one, had noticed a small tear in his bowstring and sat twisting a piece of wet rawhide into a new string. He watched Yellow Kidney run a greasy rag over the working parts of his repeating rifle. He studied the designs of the brass studs in the stock of the gun. He would have to hunt hard this winter. The many-shots cost ten head-and-tail cow robes. He was determined to get them but first he needed a strong buffalo-runner. He looked over at White Man’s Dog, who lay back against a downed alder. The day was warm and White Man’s Dog was stripped down to his breechcloth. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep. He was thinking about a dream that had come to him three nights running: He was in the middle of an enemy camp and it was a bright winter night and the snow creaked beneath his moccasins. A black dog approached him and then walked away. Again it came up to him and turned to go. This time it looked back to him as though it wanted him to follow. The dog led the way through the camp until they came to a lodge on the far side. It was simply decorated with a star cluster on either side of the ear flaps. He pulled back the entrance skin and saw several dark shapes around the perimeter of the lodge. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the shapes weren’t breathing. Then, opposite him, one of the shapes lifted its sleeping robe and he saw that it was a young white-faced girl. She beckoned to him, and in fright he turned to leave. But as he turned away he looked back and saw that the girl’s eyes desired him. Then all the dark shapes began to move and he saw that they were all young girls, naked and with the same look in their eyes. The white-faced girl stood and held out her arms and White Man’s Dog moved toward her. It was at this point that he would wake up.
BOOK: Fools Crow (Contemporary American Fiction)
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