The Changing Wind (37 page)

“This is not good, my friend,” Heads Off had protested. “I know now why this custom is not found among my people.”

Coyote giggled.

“It would be a great test of manhood,” he teased.

“There are other ways to test manhood, Uncle,” Heads Off protested again. “Follow your customs in most things I will, but
aiee
, my face is sore!”

“It is true,” Coyote had concluded. “The face-plucking is not for those with heavy fur.”

So it was decided. The hair-faced outsider did not attempt to pluck his face, and this was easily accepted. He was respected for his willingness to follow the customs of the People in most other ways. The current situation provided an amusing diversion with many jokes and questions. Some of the inveterate gamblers were already quietly betting on whether the upcoming offspring would bear facial fur.

However, first things must come first. The birth was expected no sooner than the Moon of Ripening. First the band must travel to the Sun Dance, which would be held on the Walnut River this season. But even before that, an odd incident occurred which cast a suspicious shadow over events to come.

The spring hunt was excellent, and every lodge was well supplied. Perhaps the outstanding successes of the year for the Southern band influenced the chief’s decision about the day of the move. Surely, any leader would anticipate the honor and prestige that would go with such a year. Therefore, it may have been that Hump Ribs called for the move a bit early.

The usual protest arose from the women. They couldn’t possibly be ready in three days. The meat from the recent
kill was not yet prepared. Even while they protested, they started preparations for the move.

Big-Footed Woman was among the most vocal of the protesters. It was foolish, she scolded, to think that all the fat from the recent kills could possibly be cooked down properly in so short a time. Mere men, even chiefs, could not understand such a problem. Just because times were now improved was no cause to become wasteful. Good food had never been wasted by the People, even in times of plenty. She, for one, would never leave meat on the prairie to rot. She had no intention, she continued, of leaving this campsite until her work was done. The men wisely refrained from argument.

In fact, it was noted that both Coyote and Heads Off scrupulously avoided their wives after the striking and packing of the lodges. It seemed advisable to avoid contact, where possible, with the sharp tongue of the irate Big-Footed Woman. Let her vent her wrath, and perhaps by day’s end her temper would be cooled somewhat.

By noon, the column was on the move, but it was time to stop for the evening camp before Coyote and Heads Off noticed anything amiss.

“Where is your mother?” Coyote asked Long Elk.

“She stayed behind to finish cooking the fat,” Long Elk answered. “You did not know? She said they would catch up later. Tall One is with her.”

It was immediately apparent that Heads Off was quite upset at this turn of events. He seemed to blame himself, fidgeted and paced, and finally spoke to his father-in-law.

“I go to look for them,” he explained, as he swung up onto the gray mare.

“I go with you,” Long Elk said quickly.

Shadows were growing long over the abandoned campsite, but one fire still burned.

“Mother, we
must
leave! Please forget the rest of the fat,” Tall One entreated. She had stayed behind to help finish the cooking and to help with the carrying. She had had no idea that her mother would stay this long over her silly grudge.

Actually, Big-Footed Woman hadn’t intended it this way. She would, she thought, let them leave without her. She was certain that the men would come back as soon as their
absence was discovered. She would then grudgingly consent to leave, having proved her argument.

But the men had not come. Her anger was rekindled, and her stubborn streak began to manifest itself even more strongly. She would stay here until they did come, she decided.

But that was while the sun still shone. Now the darkness was falling, and the whole thing began to seem a little foolish. Maybe they should pack up and travel, she thought. They could follow the trail of the entire band, even in complete darkness. She was about to capitulate and in fact had drawn in her breath to speak when Tall One held up a hand to listen.

Unmistakably, there was a sound of hoof beats. Three or four elk-dogs were approaching at a walk. Both women brightened considerably, and Big-Footed Woman began to plan her scathing remarks for the men. She turned her back and began paying utmost attention to skimming melted grease and spooning it out to cool.

“Here they come,” she murmured, savoring her moment. The horses came closer, to the very edge of the firelight, and stopped. She heard a chuckle, but not until a gasp of surprise and fear came from Tall One did she turn.

There were four men, each sitting on his horse in a relaxed, amused posture. They made no immediate move, merely sat smiling and chuckling. It took a long moment for the significance of the situation to make itself felt to Big-Footed Woman. Somehow her mind was slow to grasp so unexpected a scene. She had been certain that when she turned, she would see her husband and Heads Off.

But these men were complete strangers. And by their ornaments and weapons, Big-Footed Woman could see that her bull-headed escapade had backfired. These men were not even of the People.

They were Head Splitters.

“Hello, Mother,” signed the oldest of the Head Splitters, apparently the leader. “Is our supper ready?”

Foolishly though she had acted that day, Big-Footed Woman was wise enough not to do anything foolish at that moment. If either of the women rocked the delicately balanced situation, the result might be instant tragedy. As it was, the Head Splitters seemed to be enjoying the game.
Their only chance, both women realized, was to play along and stall for time.

“Get down and sit,” signed Big-Footed Woman. “You are early. My husband will be back soon.”

Laughter from the Head Splitters. They could see that the camp was abandoned. They slid from the horses and wandered around the fire, poking at the strips of fat.

“Get away from my cooking,” the woman said irritably, reinforcing her demand with sign language and a gentle shove. “I will say when it is ready!”

More laughter.

It’s working, she thought. We will be safe as long as I can keep them laughing. Maybe the men will come.

Of course, both women knew that their cause was hopeless. They could feed the strangers and for some time possibly dissuade them. Eventually, the Head Splitters would tire of the game and would kill them, probably after raping them. Already the small one with teeth like those of a squirrel was letting his glances rove over the long body of Tall One. The best that might happen would be that they would take her with them instead of killing her outright. Too bad, thought Big-Footed Woman. I did want her to bear the child of Heads Off.

Even while her mind was busy with such morose thoughts, her hands were busy with the cooking fire. She chattered on in a combination of talk and sign.

“Stay back, you’ll kick dirt in my cooking!” she ordered.

The Head Splitters were enjoying this scene immensely. One of them made an exaggerated move to escape her scolding, and the others rocked with laughter. Big-Footed Woman began to cook some small strips of meat and hand the morsels to the men. She wondered how long she could continue this process. She cooked small portions, only a few at a time, assisted by Tall One, who had thus far been silent.

Full darkness fell, and the process of cooking and feeding the strangers continued. Tall One kindled a torch and propped it nearby for light. Once the older man impatiently demanded that they cook bigger portions.

“Mother,” said Tall One finally, “don’t you think that little one looks like a squirrel?”

Tall One glanced at the little man. Complete absence of
any understanding shone on all four faces as they chewed pieces of meat or joked among themselves.

Her mother nodded. “And the big one is the ugliest I ever saw.”

The big one in question smiled and nodded.

“I thought so,” concluded Tall One. “None of them understands a word of the talk of the People. Now I will tell you my idea. I do not intend to go to bed with Squirrel Tooth over there.”

She smiled at the man again, and he responded with a toothy grin.

Rapidly, Tall One sketched her plan.

Her mother nodded. “It is good. Even if it does not work, we may escape in the darkness.”

Finally it seemed that the nearly insatiable appetites were becoming satisfied. Squirrel Tooth was looking hungrily at Tall One. It was time to make a move. Tall One strolled over to replace the sputtering torch with a fresh one. Instead of propping it for light, she suddenly lifted it high and dashed off into the darkness, the flame bobbing and dancing over her head.

The Head Splitters leapt to their feet and ran after her, shouting to each other as they ran. Big-Footed Woman quickly picked up a heavy stone war club and slipped into the darkness.

Tall One ran down the familiar path, counting on her pursuers’ unfamiliarity with the terrain. She looked back, slowing her pace slightly. It was important that the pursuit be as close as possible. The line of flight led straight across a level area with no obstructions, and her long legs kept her barely ahead of the running warriors. She wondered if they thought her stupid to be carrying the torch.

A hundred paces behind the abandoned lodge site, the level meadow dropped off sharply to the river. The edge was a shelf of stone, jutting out of the earth and ending abruptly. Below lay a tangled pile of jagged pieces broken from the shelf through the centuries and dropped into the stream’s bed.

Straight for the edge ran Tall One. As she neared the drop, she sprinted faster, pulling slightly away from the runners behind. She waved the torch high, then suddenly flung it ahead of her and dodged quickly to the left, slipping quietly into a clump of bushes. The plan worked
perfectly. The men, in full stride, continued to pursue the bobbing, flashing torch as it bounced over the rocks. The two in the lead did not even break stride as they plunged over the edge. It seemed a long time before the dull sounds of their bodies striking rock was heard. The third man, Squirrel Tooth, realized something was wrong just as he reached the ledge. He attempted to save himself but overbalanced and fell, a short exclamation of surprise choked off by the dull thud.

The fourth man was warned and managed to stop at the edge. He called into the dark, but there was only a low moan in answer. The torch lay far below, flickering in a crevice near the water. He turned to look for the girl, shouting angrily. Tall One hugged the earth and tried not to breathe too heavily.

“Tall One!” a voice called from the darkness. “Bring the big ugly one back to the fire and let him catch you, almost!”

The big man turned toward the voice, but the girl jumped up with a frightened squeal and ran back toward the fire, the warrior in hot pursuit. She dodged around, barely staying out of his reach, until she saw from the corner of her vision where her mother was located. Twisting, turning, the agile young woman maneuvered her pursuer into proper position and finally stumbled, sprawling with a little scream.

The man loomed over her in rage, and his hands reached for the girl. She was glad that he had no weapon. At the last moment, there was a dull
thunk
, and the Head Splitter slumped forward, falling almost on top of her. Big-Footed Woman brushed the hair back from her face as she hefted the borrowed war club in case another blow was needed. It was not.

The exhausted women made their way back to the fire. As they built up the blaze, they suddenly heard hoofbeats again, and both slipped warily into the darkness.

Heads Off and Long Elk rode into the circle of the firelight and paused, calling their names. Big-Footed Woman stepped quickly from hiding.

“Heads Off! Long Elk! Over here,” she called.

They returned to the fire.

“Mother!” shouted Long Elk. “We were very worried!”

“Oh, we are all right,” she managed to say calmly. “We traded meat to some travelers for four elk-dogs.”

She pointed to the animals, tied in the shadows.

Heads Off was irritated. He had been nearly frantic with worry and did not appreciate the light treatment of a near-tragedy.

“Come on,” he snapped gruffly. “Let us join the rest.”

“Of course, Heads Off,” answered his wife meekly, “as soon as we finish skimming out the fat.”

W
hat had shown every promise of being a triumphant, prestigious Sun Dance full of celebration was almost a disaster. It became quickly apparent that with the exception of the Southern band, no one had fared well.

The Eastern band, of course, rarely fared well. That was assumed to be due to their own foolishness. But the others had suffered too. The Red Rocks, especially, were at a low point in their entire history. They had been attacked more than once by the Head Splitters. The enemy now appeared to be usually mounted, and the frightening impact of an attack by well-armed horsemen was demoralizing.