The Elk-Dog Heritage (15 page)

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Authors: Don Coldsmith

BOOK: The Elk-Dog Heritage
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In the gray
light before the dawn, the People made their last preparations. Older women herded small children together to retreat to the broken hillside for hiding. Tall One kissed her children and handed Owl to Crow Woman. She spoke to Eagle, old enough now to understand the gravity of the situation.
“My son, if you are captured, always remember that you are of the People, and be proud!”
She turned and picked up her bow and quiver of arrows. Taking the Spanish bit from its peg, she placed the thong around her husband's neck.
“You must wear this, Heads Off. It is our strongest medicine.”
She kissed him softly, and looked long into his eyes.
“Go now, my husband. Remember, White Buffalo says the signs are good!”
He had almost forgotten that. Now, in light of the progress of events, he was ready to scorn the prediction.
Coyote, carrying his bow, gave his son-in-law's hand a quick squeeze.
“We will be there to strike when you need us,” he said simply. “The signs are good!”
Heads Off could not speak. His eyes were filled with tears as he returned the little man's grip and quickly turned to his gray mare.
The horsemen gathered in the open area before the lodges.
Even though he knew they were few in number, he was shocked. The People were able to mount fewer than a score of warriors. He could see the men of the Bowstrings slipping on foot to their respective areas of concealment in the gray light of dawn.
A figure came up beside the gray mare. It was White Buffalo.
“Heads Off,” he called. “I have cast the stones again.” The old medicine man still seemed puzzled. “It is the same! The signs are good!”
“Thank you, my friend,” Heads Off smiled.
He reined Lolita around to face the open prairie, flanked by Standing Bird and Long Elk. Every face was ceremonially painted. The small band of horsemen moved slowly forward, watching the enemy camp. Sun Boy's torch was now peeping above earth's rim, and visibility was improving rapidly.
In the distant camp, a flurry of activity was evident. Heavily armed, painted enemy warriors were swinging to their mounts and calling to each other as they assembled. There were too many to count.
Heads Off led his Elk-dog warriors to a spot just short of the ashes of the barricade. It would be important to plan their position correctly. They must be able to move forward at a charge to strike the oncoming enemy with some momentum. Yet the clash must occur precisely in front of the hidden bowmen, to take advantage of whatever help they could offer.
So the horsemen of the People sat, their elk-dogs fidgeting in the trampled mud. Waiting was the hardest part, Heads Off had always thought. Yet they must remain exactly here and make the enemy come to them, or lose whatever element of surprise their position might furnish when the bowmen struck.
The wait was not long. The milling horsemen out on the plain formed into a semblance of order and faced toward the besieged People. Someone gave a long yell. Heads Off thought it was the
arrogant young chief he had noticed before, but the distance was too great to be sure.
The enemy warriors kicked horses into a frantic gallop and surged forward in an awesome charge.
Good, thought Heads Off. Their horses will be tiring when we strike. They should save them for a final push. Our mounts will be fresh.
It was a vain hope, a slim grasping at straws, he saw in the next moment. The massed might of the charging horsemen was terrifying to see. The falsetto
yip-yip-yip
of the Head Splitters' war cry screamed from a hundred throats.
Heads Off glanced around to see if any of his young warriors might be tempted to run. None appeared to be so inclined. They gripped weapons tightly, ready to move on signal, as the thundering horde pounded down on them.
“
Aiee
,” murmured Long Elk softly to himself.
It was now time to move. Heads Off gently kneed the gray mare Lolita into position and moved forward at a walk. The others fanned out to either side of him, presenting a line of warriors across the narrow neck of the meadow.
There had been a wall of brush and logs. The camp was now protected by a wall of flesh and bone, that of men and of elk-dogs. And, how very fragile that wall appeared, with the overwhelming might of the massed charge bearing down.
The timing must be precise, now. Heads Off touched the mare into a trot. Her ears were forward, eagerly anticipating the excitement of the charge. She had engaged in this sort of activity before. The animal pranced a little. Her rider had often felt that Lolita enjoyed the chase and the shock of the strike as the lance found its mark. Many buffalo had fallen before this team of man and horse, and a few men. It made little difference to the mare. She was straining at the rawhide war bridle when finally Heads
Off let her go and voiced the war cry of the People.
The two charging, screaming lines of horsemen approached each other, at almost the exact spot he desired. The Head Splitters were crowding together as they funneled into the neck of the meadow, while the People tried to spread to fill it.
It was perhaps a split second too soon that the bowmen released their first flight of arrows, but it made no difference. The front ranks of the enemy were close, close enough to see the surprise on their faces when the arrows struck among them. Several warriors in the first row were knocked from their mounts. A horse screamed in pain, and another fell heavily, the animal behind colliding with the rolling body.
Into this confusion charged the Elk-dog warriors of the People. Heads Off had a quick thought of fervent hope that the bowmen would select their targets carefully in the melee. Then he was bearing down on a burly Head Splitter and had no time for such thoughts.
The other was quick and adept. He parried the lance with his shield and swung his war club, but was knocked from his horse by the lance of Standing Bird. Heads Off wheeled and looked for another target. Long Elk had lost or broken his lance, and an enemy horseman charged down on the unprotected youth. Heads Off turned to help him, but the agile young warrior threw himself backward from his horse, somersaulting to land on his feet. He had practiced this maneuver many times, to the amusement of the older warriors. Now it was lifesaving, as the war club of his adversary whistled through the empty space above the horse's withers.
Long Elk ran, bending and twisting, while the mounted Head Splitter pursued him. Heads Off surged forward in a charge and this time his thrust was true. The enemy fell heavily in the mud and lay still.
Heads Off glanced quickly around. A Head Splitter was helping a wounded comrade swing up behind him. Beyond that, another enemy warrior kicked his horse around to retreat. All along the line of the battle, the attackers were withdrawing. Another shower of arrows rattled among them as the bowmen found clear targets again. Several of the young Elk-dog warriors of the People seemed inclined to pursue, but Heads Off called them back.
“Fall back!” he called.
He must not allow them to divide their slim force. They would be unprotected in the open.
“We will have another chance,” he reassured the returning young men.
The Elk-dog
men hastily reassembled in the meadow, to assess the situation. There were three dead, one wounded. Long Elk had recaptured his horse and looked none the worse for his narrow escape.
Several enemy dead lay scattered across the prairie where the action had been heaviest. The bowmen had been the deciding factor, and they had received not one injury. Unfortunately, this element of surprise was now lost. The enemy would be aware of the hidden warriors and their deadly capability.
A rider loped back to the woods, where the women reported no attack at all. Apparently all the Head Splitters, in their comparatively disorganized state, had elected to take part in the grand charge that was to have been the last.
Now, the situation was changed. The enemy was aware that a determined People would not lie down and be killed without a final defense. The Head Splitters would be more cautious about their charge, and would probably attack from the stream and through the woods as well. It had been obvious that there was not much plan in the attack that the People had just turned back. The next strike would be different.
Heads Off wished badly to go to the side of Tall One, but it could not be. He must lead his Elk-dog men in the meadow. Without his leadership he was afraid their youth and inexperience would make them easy prey to the overwhelming force of the enemy.
“
Aiee
, they come again!” Standing Bird pointed.
Heads Off barely had time to swing his horsemen into position before the charge came. They were fewer in number, less than half the strength of the previous charge.
He was puzzled at this turn of events. There had been no time for the planning of the multiple attack he had expected.
The yelling horsemen came closer, and the People began to recognize individuals. Now Heads Off understood. These were the young braggarts who had shouted threats and obscenities at the barrier each day. Furious with the failure of the initial charge, they had mounted their own, probably in defiance of their chiefs' wishes.
The barrage of arrows and spears slowed the enemy charge, almost breaking the thrust of the attack before the countercharge by the Elk-dogs struck. It was only a moment before the Head Splitters were in full flight, again leaving bodies behind on the field.
Heads Off was elated that they had been able to turn the second attack, but was soon sobered. The People had lost two more warriors, and this attack, stopped with relative ease, was not that of the main enemy force. The attack in strength was yet to come.
Time passed slowly for the waiting defenders, and it was near the top of Sun Boy's path when a group of three Head Splitters rode slowly out from their camp toward the defenders.
In the center, flanked by two others, was the young chief Heads Off had noticed before. The three rode at a walk to a place a few hundred paces away and stopped. The leader signed that he wished to talk.
“It is a trick, Heads Off,” Long Elk warned.
The chief nodded. “Probably. But we must talk. Come.” He
beckoned to Standing Bird, then turned to the others. “Watch with care!”
He waved to the bowmen and signed to them also to be alert, then rode slowly forward. His two young warriors were at his side, alert for any sign of treachery. The two little groups stopped a few paces from each other, suspicious and ready for trouble, but trying to appear relaxed and confident. Heads Off supposed there would be an offer to accept surrender. He had already rejected this in his mind. The possibility of treachery was too likely if the People were to give up their weapons.
“Greetings, my chief,” the Head Splitter signed. He was smiling and appeared friendly. “We ask to come and take away our dead.”
It was a legitimate request, and took the emissaries of the People by surprise. Heads Off nodded, at the same time thinking rapidly.
“Of course. We will not attack while you take them.”
Something was wrong. The request was valid, but seemed inappropriate somehow. How he wished Coyote were at his side. His father-in-law would see through the intricacies of this negotiation.
The enemy chief glanced at the sun. Ah, thought Heads Off, he is thinking about the time. Whatever his scheme, it depends on Sun Boy. This reasoning gave added confidence, and he decided to prolong the encounter a bit. Perhaps he could learn more.
“It is a good day to fight,” Heads Off offered pleasantly.
“It is a good day to die!” the other retorted.
“Yes,” agreed Heads Off. “Your young men have learned that.”
Anger flared on the face of the other. The jibe had struck home, a reference to the lack of organization and control among
the Head Splitters. Quickly, the enemy chief regained his composure.
“It is your people who will learn this day,” he threatened, yet in a mild and friendly manner. Again, he glanced anxiously at the sun. “Then we may come for our dead?” he questioned, apparently eager to end the interview.
Heads Off nodded, and lifted Lolita's rein to signal the end of the conversation. Boldly and deliberately, he turned his back to the other, attempting to show confidence. He knew Long Elk and Standing Bird would be alert to defend and warn against any overt moves.
A flash of motion caught at the corner of his vision. A man on foot was slipping behind the shoulder of the rocky hill on his left. Now alert to this area, he saw another, bending to hide in the scrubby brush.
Now he saw the reason for the parley.
Normally, the enemy would not have requested to remove bodies until after the battle. To do so now was to use time, to create a distraction, so that warriors could maneuver into position. During the removal of the dead, when the attention of the People was occupied by that activity, enemy warriors on foot would be slipping into position in the woods, behind the hill, and along the stream. When the next attack came, it would be from all quarters at once, not just the frontal charge.
At least, he thought, we can be aware of it. We will not be caught by surprise. The two young horsemen were sent to warn the bowmen, while he himself rode to the woods to warn the defenders there. It gave him another last opportunity to speak to Tall One. He stepped down for a moment for a quick embrace, but realized he must return to the meadow. The girl gave him a quick kiss.
“Remember, the signs are good!”
He smiled and nodded, thinking to himself that of the signs he had seen, none appeared good. He turned Lolita back toward the meadow.
A party of the enemy was lifting their fallen warriors and placing them on the backs of horses they had brought for the purpose. They were singing, he supposed their song of mourning, and his own warriors watched from a distance, fascinated.
“You have told them what we think is to come?” he asked Long Elk.
The other nodded. “We will be ready, Heads Off.”
Bowmen were deploying in the scrubby growth of willows along the stream. The Elk-dog men would do without their support at the next charge. The enemy had now correctly determined the weakness of the People. They had simply not enough warriors, even with women and children helping, to defend in so many places at once.
The last of the dead were retrieved, and the funeral party made its way back toward the enemy camp. Now the Head Splitters began to mount, milling around in the characteristic activity that was a preface to their charge. A few began their yipping falsetto war cry, as more horsemen joined the milling throng. If anything, despite the losses by the enemy in the two charges earlier, there seemed to be more horsemen than ever.
A phrase of the death song flitted through the mind of Heads Off for a moment.
“ … today is a good day to die.”
He gripped his lance and resolved that the People would give the enemy a day to remember.
As if to echo the phrase of the death song, a new group of horsemen now appeared silhouetted on the hilltop against the
western sky. They were in position for a flanking attack when the defenders rode out to meet the charge.
He wondered wryly what White Buffalo might say now, about his signs.

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