The Changing Wind (31 page)

“Only to turn aside, to pass our camp, without discovering it. I can use my medicine for such a purpose, Crow, because it would not be evil!”

“How can I help?” she asked.

“The drum cadence. Let me prepare my ceremony, and we will begin. Bring my facepaint.”

“Will it work against gods?” Crow asked.

“I do not know, but it is all we have. Anyway”—he paused long enough to smile at her—“we do not know that these are gods. That
is
only the word of the Caddo.”

Inwardly, he wished that he knew more about these strange beings with shiny skins and dogs that could carry a man. He wished that he was younger, so that he could have gone with the wolves instead of sending Coyote.
Aiee
, what had happened to that one? Why did he not return or send word?

White Buffalo busied himself with preparations for his ceremony, now with greater confidence. He still might offend the gods with his attempts to turn them aside, but at least he would not run the risk of death from his own medicine.

The drumbeat began just after sunset. The dances, prayers, and chants, with intermittent ceremonial incense burning, continued throughout the night. It was a private ceremony, carried out within or just in front of the holy man’s lodge. The People knew that something was going on, possibly something important. It was assumed that it had to do with the advancing column that was being observed by the wolves of the People. Consequently, there was a curious scatter of onlookers who came and went during the night, discussing quietly these events.

Sun Boy was lifting his torch above earth’s rim when White Buffalo finished the last chanted prayer of supplication, and the drum fell silent. Half-stumbling, he made his way to the lodge and almost fell into his sleeping-robes. Crow Woman covered him with a robe and lay down near
him, watching with concern as the holy man fell into the deep sleep of complete exhaustion.

It was nearly evening when White Buffalo awoke. He lay there a moment, becoming oriented to the day. Crow Woman lay sleeping. He knew that she too must have been exhausted. Quietly he rose and slipped outside.

He was just relieving his bladder behind the lodge when he heard a shout. One of the wolves was returning. White Buffalo hurried to the lodge of Hump Ribs, arriving at almost the same time as the messenger.

“Come in,” the chief beckoned to the holy man, as he held the doorskin aside for the messenger.

It was apparent that the scout had news of great importance. He had the appearance of one who had been running, striving to reach the village before dark. But was his news good or bad?

“My chief,” the runner panted, “the gods have turned back. This morning, they broke camp and moved away to the west, or southwest.”

A broad smile broke the stern countenance of Hump Ribs. The crisis, the threat to the Southern band, appeared to be over. He nodded approvingly.

White Buffalo sat numbly, listening to the more detailed description of the messenger. His prayers and ceremonial chants had been successful, but he found that he had mixed feelings about it. It was over, and he had not had the opportunity to see the gods, to try to fathom their secret powers. And it was too late. He had been born at the wrong time. If only this had happened when he was young, so that he could have been with the wolves, could have seen for himself the wondrous god-beings. His mind wandered for a moment and then was sharply jerked back to reality by the words of the scout.

“One god was left behind,” the man was saying. “He appears to be lost. He rides one of the elk-dogs.”

“Elk-dogs?” asked Hump Ribs.

“Yes, my chief,” the messenger chuckled. “Coyote calls them that. These dogs are as big as an elk. We have not seen one closely. Oh, yes, holy man, I have a message for you. Coyote says to tell you he will watch this lost god today and come to you tonight.”

“They are that close?” asked White Buffalo in amazement.

“Oh, yes. The lost one has continued this way. I do not know, since I left, but they should be very close tonight.”

“It is good,” said Hump Ribs. “I will go back out with you.”

“U
ncle, I am made to feel that this is very important,” Coyote said wearily.

His fat round body was not well suited to hurried travel.

“Yes, yes, go on!” White Buffalo urged impatiently.

“Well, they told you that the gods have turned back?”

White Buffalo nodded.

“But there was this one who appeared lost,” Coyote continued. “We followed him. Uncle, the shiny skins that we have heard of… I do not think they are skins. A garment, maybe…”

White Buffalo exhaled a sigh audibly and impatiently.

“Forgive me, Uncle.” Coyote hurried on. “There is so much… This lost one is apparently abandoned by the others. Maybe they expected him to rejoin them, but he is injured.”

“Injured? How?”

“He fell from his elk-dog.”

“Wait. It is true, then, that they ride on the backs of these animals?”

“Yes, Uncle, and some carry burdens. But this one was startled by a real-snake. When it rattled, the elk-dog jumped, and the shiny god fell. We thought he was dead and came near to see. A long time he was dead, but then he rolled over and woke up.”

Ah, thought White Buffalo. A god is immortal. He cannot die.

“But then,” Coyote continued, “the god vomited. Uncle, would a god crawl on all fours, and grovel in his own puke?”

Before the holy man could answer, Coyote hurried on.

“Forgive me, Uncle, there is so much… the god then sat and seemed to remove his head.”

“His head?”

Coyote giggled at his little joke and continued.

“So it seemed to some. There was a headdress, round and shiny. He removed it and appeared to take his head off. Some of us had seen that it appeared to be fastened with a leather strap or thong, so it was not really his head, but…”

“Go on, Coyote,” White Buffalo urged.

“Yes… well, he is called Heads Off because of this and how it appeared. Hump Ribs called a council to decide what to do.”

“Hump Ribs is still out there?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Coyote paused, seeming reluctant to relate his own part in these events.

“There were those,” he said slowly, “who wished to kill the god and his elk-dog to remove the danger. But Uncle, I am made to think we must know more of this.”

“What do you mean, Coyote?”

“Well, there are many things. Could a god be injured in this way? His head is bloody, and the shiny headdress probably saved it from being burst when he struck. Then he was sick. Several times. I do not think… Uncle, I do not believe these are gods at all. They are
men
, from a far tribe, much different than ours.”

White Buffalo had begun to suspect something of the sort.

“How, different?” he asked.

“He has fur,” Coyote said.

“Fur?”

“Yes. Black fur, which grows from his face. Not like ours, which we pluck with the clam-shells. This is black and curly, like that of the buffalo.”

“Could it be a mask or a garment?”

“No, Uncle. It grows directly from his face.”

“Aiee
, that is strange.”

“Yes, and the shiny skins—as I said, I do not think it is their skin. It is of the same material as the headdress.”

“You think the fur covers his whole body, like the bear?”

“Maybe. I do not think so. His hands are not hairy.”

“Did he speak?”

“Nothing we understood. He moaned a lot and said words strange to us. Oh, and he does not know handsigns. They meant nothing to him.”

“You have been close to him. It did not seem dangerous?”

“Not really. He is sick and weak. My fear was that somebody would kill him before we could learn of his tribe. But they are not thinking so much of that now.”

“Why?”

“Well, he seems harmless. And I…”—Coyote paused to chuckle at his own cleverness—“I gave him a name.”

“A name?”

“Yes, Heads Off, as I said.” He giggled again. “It is harder to kill someone if you know his name.”

Yes, that is true
, thought White Buffalo.
Coyote is clever, as always
.

“What is happening now?” the holy man asked.

“Nothing. He has bedded for the night. We are watching him. The elk-dog stays near.”

“The elk-dog? It did not run away?” White Buffalo asked in amazement.

“What? Oh, no. It stays with him and eats grass.”

“This ‘elk-dog’ eats
grass?”

Coyote giggled.

“Yes, Uncle. Now it seems more elk than dog. But it has no horns.”

“Tell me more of this elk-dog.”

“Well, some wanted to kill it. It looks good to eat. But I thought it must, for some reason, be better to ride it than eat it. Otherwise, Heads Off would have eaten it already!”

Coyote sat back, smiling, pleased with his reasoning.

“So they will
not
kill it, you think?”

“No. I talked to Hump Ribs, and he told them not to. We could kill it later if we really need the meat.”

“Tell me more of this elk-dog.”

“Well, it has a beautiful skin. Gray in color, like a gray wolf, but shorthaired, like an antelope. It eats grass, and its eyes look at us without fear. It is proud… a look of eagles is in the eyes… oh, yes, I nearly forgot—its hooves are not split like other animals’.”

“What?”

Coyote held up a hand, fingers apart, to demonstrate.

“There is no cleft. The foot is solid, Uncle.” He paused to
chuckle. “When we first saw it, it seemed to wear a turtle on each foot.”

White Buffalo’s head whirled. He had been so preoccupied with the invading god-beings and his ceremony… but now… he had completely forgotten his vision of so long ago. A lifetime ago, it seemed. The strange creature of his vision, the one that had seemed so important but was never seen again. Was he now to learn of it, in this strange way? His heart was pounding, and his palms were sweating.

“A turtle?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Yes,” laughed Coyote. “Of course it only looked that way. The hoof was solid, not split.”

“Yes,” said White Buffalo absently. “Coyote, I must see this animal. I will go back with you.”

“There is no need, Uncle. It is just over the hill. You can see it in the morning.”

“It is
here?
That close?”

“Yes. Heads Off, too. Hump Ribs said we will watch him but not bother him, until we see what he will do.”

“But, he is sick with a broken head?”

“Yes, but it seems he will recover. We will see.”

Coyote wandered off. White Buffalo was not certain whether he meant to return to the watch or to spend the rest of the night at home. The holy man turned back to his own bed.

“Elk,” Crow Woman whispered, “did I hear right? Coyote spoke of the creature of your visions, the turtle-footed elk?”

“Yes,” White Buffalo said thoughtfully. “Crow, I have never told anyone but you, and my father before his death. No one knew of this creature, that I had
seen
it long ago.
Aiee
, what can this mean?”

Crow shook her head.

“I do not know, but it must be very important.”

“Coyote said that, too.
Why
is it important?”

“Do you not feel that?” asked Crow.

“Of course. But I do not understand it.”

“Maybe it is not
meant
to be understood, my husband.”

“That is true. We will go and look at this creature, the elk-dog, in the morning.”

There was to be more than one startling development that next day. The People awoke to find that buffalo had come. For most, this news of immediate importance overshadowed any speculation about elk-dogs and gods who remove their heads. Here was food for the coming winter. Times had not been hard, and there was food, but at the Moon of Falling Leaves it is wise to make preparations. There may be very little hunting for the next few moons, and every lodge should have a season’s supply of dried meat and pemmican stored in the space behind the lodge-lining. Therefore, the arrival of the buffalo was an important marker in the trail of the seasons.

It was immediately apparent that this was not the main fall migration. Only a few hundred animals, the forefront of the great herds to come. They were sleek and fat from grazing on lush grasses in the Sacred Hills and farther north. Now, like the People, they were moving south for the winter season. The move was early, even before the seasonal change in the wind. White Buffalo wondered if this was an omen, a sign of a coming hard winter. He would cast the bones later.

But for now, his greatest desire was to go and see the elk-dog and its strange rider. With Crow Woman, he started in the direction indicated by Coyote.

He was interrupted by a group of hunters who asked him for a prediction for the coming hunt. Impatiently, he performed the ceremony and sent them on their way. Of course they would have a good hunt, he thought to himself. The season, the fat herd—everything was right.

Again, he and Crow started for the hill from which they could see the god and his elk-dog. As they topped the rise, it was like a dream in which one can see everything at once. The gently rolling valley spread before them, the buffalo just moving into the northern end. And there, scarcely a long bowshot away, was the elk-dog. It was calmly grazing. White Buffalo gasped in wonder. He had already known but still it was a shock to see the creature, warm and alive, in all its graceful beauty. It raised its head and seemed to look at him. Even at such a distance, he caught a hint of the intelligence in the dark, wideset eyes.