Night Thunder's Bride: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 3 (31 page)

Night Thunder looked sullen. “There must be something here, something that I have not yet considered. What did you say happened when you brought the elk to her?”

“Her parents gazed at me as though I were an enemy creeping upon them in the night.”

“Humph. Mayhap I had better give the medicine man another pony that he might see me more quickly.”

“Perhaps.”

“There must be something I am overlooking.”

“If you are, my friend,” said Singing Bull, “then I too am unaware of it.”

The two men continued to talk, continued to plot, as Night Thunder placed his robe around Singing Bull—as friends will often do when in the Sun Dance camp. Together the men stumbled out onto the open prairie, where their conversation would be continued.

What was Night Thunder doing with Singing Bull? Was it true? Was he trying to make the other man court Blue Raven Woman, because of her? Was this what she had forced Night Thunder to do?

Rebecca lingered near the bushes where she had hidden herself, listening. Perhaps it would be better for all involved if she left quickly. Her heart missed a beat at the thought. Leave Night Thunder? Truly?

Aye, she thought. It was for the best.

But how could she do it?

Rebecca could not find her way to the fort on her own. She did not know the way, nor did she have the ability to survive on the plains for the length of time necessary to get there. Hadn’t she also agreed to stay here until the end of the Sun Dance?

But she did not want to be the ruin of those around her.

Besides, there was another reason that made her need to get away all the greater—a reason she had better hide from Night Thunder.

It was all much too complicated, and it made her mind spin to think about it.

Taking her shawl and placing it over the top of her head, she turned away from the sight of the two men, retracing her steps to her lodge.

Chapter Twenty-One

Evening had descended upon the village as Night Thunder entered the medicine man’s lodge. Immediately he was assailed by the scents of sage, sweet grass, and the incense of
katoya,
sweet pine.

Old Lone Bull sat toward the back of the tepee, his hands taking hold of his pipe, that he might ready it for the ceremony.

“
Haiya,
my son,” said the wizened old man. “It has been too long since we last talked.”

“
Aa,
my father, it is so.”

“Come, take a seat, and let me pass the pipe to you so that you will know that when we talk, we will speak only the truth to each other.”

Night Thunder nodded and took his seat on the old man’s left.

Though not truly father and son, many of the younger men called the old ones by the term “Father,” as was custom. Besides, this particular medicine man had been Night Thunder’s teacher in the medicine ways for many years, and the two were probably closer than the more formal relationship of father and son.

Nothing was said or done until the medicine man had prayed—first to Sun, then to wind maker,
Ai-sopwom-stan,
to the thunder,
Sis-tse-kom,
and to the lightning,
Puh-pom’.
The pipe was lit, smoked, passed to Night Thunder, passed back.

In due time, Old Lone Bull began to speak, saying, with some amusement, “I am the possessor of many fine gifts these days.”

“
Aa,
yes, I have seen that is true.”

Chuckling slightly, the old man said, “You know that the parents of Blue Raven Woman have given me many ponies?”

“I have seen that.”

“Do you know why?”

Night Thunder shrugged. “I do not.”

Old Lone Bull heaved a deep sigh. He said, “I have many quarrels to resolve between some of our people. A holy man’s work in a Sun Dance camp is great.”

“
Hie, hie,
it is true.”

“And yet all people must be seen, all things must be attended to.”

“
Hie, hie.
”

“You are to be the next medicine man of our people.”

“
Aa,
yes, that is as it has been planned.”

The old man gave him a wizened look from beneath his lashes before next he said, “Then it is only right, is it not, that I ask you what you would do about a particular problem between some of our people? Many are the mysterious tests that I have given you over several of our great suns, but I think it only right that I put to you another test and see how it is that you would handle a civil matter that is arising amongst our people.”

Night Thunder nodded, though he remained slightly surprised.

The elder continued, “In a camp of our allies, there is a family of some importance who made a pledge with another family, many, many great suns ago. So long ago has it been that many of the people who made the compact are no longer living. It is possible that both families may wish to resolve this vow. It is also possible that both do not know how to do it while still keeping their honor.”

Night Thunder bobbed his head.

“Each may hesitate to tell the other of his desire to end the pledge, afraid of offending or angering the other.”

Again Night Thunder nodded.

“What would you do to help these people? Do you think that they should keep the pledge, though many lives have changed since when it was made? Do you think they should dissolve the promise with little or no sacrifice? Would a mere few gifts bring about a great solution? What say you, my son? What would you do?”

Night Thunder stared into the old man’s discerning eyes. He grinned slightly. “Do you speak of my own problem?”

The old man raised his eyebrows. His eyes twinkled, but without answering Night Thunder’s question, he prodded, “Have you a similar difficulty?”

“
Aa,
my father, I do.”

“Well, come now, my son, forget your own troubles for a moment and tell me how you would handle this matter.”

Night Thunder sat reflected in thought for a moment. “I think that both families should make some sacrifice to ensure that Sun will shine down gladly upon them and their decision. Then they should seek out one another and settle the matter however they feel is right. Perhaps gifts will be enough, maybe not.”

“
Aa,
my son, you speak wisely. But there is one other problem.”

“What is that?”

“One of the obstacles involves a woman—a good woman. Even if a sacrifice is made, the woman would lose a provider. What is to be done about the woman?”

“Cannot the one family take her as a second or third wife?”

“
Saa,
no, not in this case.”

“Then the one family should find a provider for her as one of their gifts. It is only right that it should be this way.”

“
Aa,
again, my son, you speak with the wisdom of a man of your people. I will hasten to find these people and inform them of what they should do. Now, tell me, what is it that brings you to my lodge, bearing me gifts?”

Night Thunder grinned and stared away. He said, “It is nothing. I have my answer, now, before I even ask you the question.”

“And so it is with the medicine ways,” said Old Lone Bull, and tipping the ashes of the pipe upon the altar stone, signaled the end of their talk.

Night Thunder left and hastened to his own lodge. He would begin preparations for the sacrifice even this night.

Night Thunder awakened to the sound of what must have been thousands of buffalo hoofs running over the dry, hard land, resembling thunder, echoing in the distance. The earth shook under the weight of their sheer numbers. Possessions tied to the tepee lining fell to the floor and lodge poles trembled.

Night Thunder sat up, observing that Rebecca, amazingly enough, continued to sleep. But he could only spare her a cursory glance. Grabbing hold of his breechcloth and tying it on, he stepped quickly outside his lodge, finding the camp already in chaos.

All other things forgotten, the people dashed to and fro. The presence of buffalo, this close to the Sun Dance village, bespoke a good omen: no one, not even the old people, would remember a time when buffalo had come so near a Sun Dance. Perhaps Sun had already decided to honor them.

Excitement filled the camp. It took hold of Night Thunder, while contrarily, he despaired. Hadn’t he only begun preparation for a sacrifice? Would he again have to put off what needed to be done in order to secure his and Rebecca’s future?

Yet he knew that the secret societies, the dances, each and every ritual, would be abandoned for the stretch of a few days, as all the bands of the tribes would go upon the hunt. No warrior would be allowed to remain idle, not when the winter stores of food lay just beyond their camp.

Buffalo birds, a particular kind of fowl that lives off the backs of buffalo, had appeared now on the southern perimeter of the camp, pronouncing the presence of the buffalo more efficiently than any camp crier could have.

Scouts had already been sent out and had arrived back saying that they had seen the buffalo—tens of thousands of them. The buffalo, however, had scented the people and were hurriedly taking flight to the south.

All the chiefs, united in one massive decision, ordered the camps to make ready for the hunt.

Night Thunder returned to his own lodge, entering and staring at his pipe, the knives, his medicine bags and flints which he had set out in order to begin his sacrifice this day. It would all have to wait.

“
Kayiiwa,
”
Rebecca greeted him. “What is it?”

“Buffalo,” he replied, “close enough to the camp that we are going to have a run.”

“A run?”

“The people will go to bring back much buffalo meat for the camp. Prepare yourself to come with me.”

“Prepare?”

“
Aa,
you will be needed to skin the animals and obtain the meat so that it can be brought back to camp. Go to Blue Raven Woman and ask her to help you.”

“But I had planned to tan a hide this day.”

He darted her a quick yet sympathetic glance. “I too had many plans for this day, but they will have to wait. The buffalo are here now and the chiefs have ordered a great hunt. The hide you intended to tan will be here when we return and you can do it then. With all there is to do, Blue Raven Woman will need your help to butcher the buffalo cows that we kill.”

He had knelt down to where he had placed his knives, his pipe, and his medicine bags, carefully returning them to a safe place. He had taken out his paints. Beginning the process of mixing the paints, Night Thunder did not notice Rebecca’s look of horror.

He chanced a quick glimpse up at her now, and what he saw surprised him. “What causes you to look…so fearful?”

“You…,” she stuttered, “you expect me to take the meat off the buffalo?”

He didn’t even look up from what he was doing. He asked, “
Aa,
yes, we would not waste the meat—”

“I could never do that.”

“
Tsa,
what?” He glanced up at her again.

“I could never take the meat from an animal.”

“Have you never butchered a buffalo?”

“No, I have not.”

Unconsciously he raised his chin, though he cautioned himself to let not a flicker of emotion cross his face. How, he wondered, did a society manage to raise a woman without the knowledge of how to obtain the meat or the skin from an animal? Strange. How did the white man’s family survive the harsh winters without these skills?

There was no time to ponder the mystery of it, however. He suggested, “Go to Blue Raven Woman and ask her to help you with it. This will be your first hunt and you will not be expected to do much. And she will teach you all you need to know.”

Rebecca agreed.

She paused for a moment, and he felt her watching him. He waited, willing her silently to speak. He was rewarded for his patience, for she began to talk to him. “There was something I wanted to tell you,” she said.

He had dipped a finger into his paint bowl. Glancing up at her, he sketched a round circle of blue upon his cheek. He said, “Tell it to me now while I paint my body for the hunt. I will listen.”

She paused, staring at him oddly before she voiced at last, “Later.” She brought a hand up to her stomach to massage it, before she stated again, “Later, after the hunt, I will tell you. For now, it is enough to know that we will have a large store of food for the winter.”

He grinned at her then and went back to his work, his fingers working quickly at mixing the paint. His spirits began to lift.

Blue Raven Woman helped her mother sharpen the buffalo knives, while Rebecca tied small children onto the ponies’ withers, as instructed, pushing the babies’ feet under the saddle girths and securing them so that the children might not fall even if a horse should break into a trot.

The whole camp stirred in excitement and all the people—men, women, children, and even babies—prepared for the hunt.

Word had been passed from camp to camp that one of the scouts had discovered a white buffalo among the herd—a strong sign of luck, Rebecca had learned. Bets had begun to fly immediately from lodge to lodge, even the old people arguing over which tribe would be the one to secure the white hide.