The Elk-Dog Heritage (19 page)

Authors: Don Coldsmith

BOOK: The Elk-Dog Heritage

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The women of
the Bloods welcomed their relatives of the Elk-dog band next evening with a feast that would be long remembered. Their food was in good supply, and they had just been trading with the Growers. Cooking had proceeded through the day, even while the preparations to depart continued.

The reunion, feast, and dance celebration became so exuberant that the Growers shook their heads in despair at the proceedings. Anxious mothers of the village cautioned their children against contact with the strange visitors and their well-known excesses.

This bothered the People not at all. There was a sense of reunion and homecoming, both on the part of the Bloods and that of the main Elk-dog band. Forgotten for the moment, in the happiness of the day, was the fact that the Big Council might easily refuse to lift the banishment. With their characteristic live-for-today philosophy, the People seemed unconcerned.

But Heads Off was concerned, increasingly so in the coming days as they traveled toward the Salt River. He sought out Coyote for advice and the two walked together, a little apart from the main column.

“What will the Big Council do?”

Coyote shrugged. “It will matter much what the Real-chief says. Most of the chiefs will vote with him.”

“What do you think Many Robes will say?”

“I do not know, Heads Off. Many Robes was very angry over
the death of Sees Far. But that was mainly against Badger.”

The two walked in silence for a long time. An orange-winged grasshopper clacked into flight in front of them and fluttered to a new resting place several paces ahead. As the insect folded its bright wings and melted again into its dusty gray invisibility, Coyote spoke again.

“Maybe you should ask him.”

“You mean, before the Big Council?”

Coyote nodded. “Before we get there, maybe. You could go on ahead.”

The idea seemed good. They discussed it at greater length, and made some tentative plans. A few suns before their arrival, Heads Off and one or two others would ride ahead. This would serve both to announce their coming and to allow time to consult the Real-chief.

Heads Off would have chosen Coyote and Red Dog to go with him, but the little man dissuaded him.

“No, Heads Off. I do not wish to shake my bones on an elk-dog. You will wish to travel fast and hard. My elk-dog medicine is not as strong as yours.” He rubbed his rump ruefully, indicating that he considered the strength of his anatomy as well as that of his medicine.

They talked long of Red Dog. He would make a good impression on the Real-chief, would undoubtedly strengthen their position, but it was risky. Would his presence seem too presumptive? It would never do to alienate Many Robes even before he had time to consider the matter.

In the end it was decided not to allow any of the Bloods near the Sun Dance encampment until after Heads Off had talked with the Real-chief. Long Elk and Standing Bird would accompany Heads Off. After the interview, if it appeared that there was a great deal of animosity toward the Bloods, one of the young men
could ride back to carry the message. Then the Bloods could decide whether to come in at all.

Red Dog was taken into the confidence of the chief, and agreed that the plan seemed good.

When the caravan reached a point that was said to be about five suns from the Salt River site for the Sun Dance, Heads Off and his young warriors began their mission.

Heads Off embraced his wife warmly. They had seldom been apart, and he regretted having to leave her now.

“Think of me sometimes,” he teased. “I will see you soon!”

Their journey to the Sun Dance site was pleasant. The prairie was green and fresh in the Moon of Roses. Buffalo and antelope dotted the distant hills, and the spicy smell of the grassland with its assorted flowers in full bloom was exhilarating.

In the morning of the third sun they saw ahead the smoke of a large camp, and by halfway through the day could see the first of the lodges. There was always the feeling of excitement at the annual gathering, like the atmosphere at a country fair in the land of Heads Off's childhood. People walked, ran or moved about, called to each other, sang, or in general seemed to be enjoying each other. Dogs barked.

A group of riders swung out to meet them at a hard gallop, showing off their skills with the elk-dogs as they escorted the newcomers in.

Many Robes watched them come, from his comfortable position against his willow backrest. He was delighted to see them. He had had grave doubts about the ability of the Elk-dog band to survive when he saw so many of the younger warriors leave to follow that troublemaker. What was his name? Woodchuck or some such â¦ Badger, that was it. There was a bad one, thought Many Robes.

The three men of the Elk-dog band rode up and dismounted
to pay their respects. After the amenities, their hair-faced leader spoke.

“May I speak with you, my chief?”

The two young warriors with him slipped discreetly away.

Many Robes nodded, wondering what the problem was. Heads Off looked thin, and somewhat worried. It could not have been an easy year for him. Then there were the rumors that had filtered to the ears of the Real-chief. Tales of a battle with the Head Splitters, a big battle.

If Heads Off is here, thought the Real-chief, he must have defeated the enemy. Then what could be his problem? Many Robes half-closed his eyes and leaned back. He would learn in a moment.

“My chief will remember,” Heads Off began hesitantly, “that many of our young men left the People to follow Badger, who was banished by the Big Council.”

The Real-chief nodded, blowing a fragrant wisp of smoke from his pipe. He said nothing.

“Those young men have come back to us,” Heads Off continued.

The eyes of the Real-chief widened perceptibly. This could be a big problem, if the Elk-dog band had accepted the miscreants back against the edict of the Council. There must be more.

“We were about to be overrun by the Head Splitters, and they entered the fight.”

There was no change on the face of the stoic Many Robes.

“Badger is dead,” blurted Heads Off, now desperately looking for some small thing to break the calm composure of the other.

Inwardly, Many Robes relaxed. If that were the case, if the troublemaker was gone, then things could be handled. He closed his eyes.

“Tell me the whole story, Heads Off.”

Rapidly, Heads Off sketched in the events of the past year. By the time he described the charge of the Bloods down the slope to strike the enemy's flank, Many Robes was sitting forward, excited.

“And who led them?”

“Red Dog, my chief. Badger had refused, and Red Dog took over leadership of the Bloods.”

Many Robes nodded, pleased. That young man would make a great leader.

“Tell me, Heads Off. Is it not true that the Council expelled Badger for killing one of your band?”

“Yes, my chief.”

“No others were sent away? They only followed him?”

Heads Off nodded.

Many Robes spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “Then, where is your problem? Some of your young warriors went their own way for a season, and now they are back. There is nothing wrong with a new warrior society. Your elk-dog men,” the old chief smiled amiably, “started a new group.”

It was a long speech for Many Robes, and he paused for a little. Heads Off waited.

“When you come to the Council,” the Real-chief continued, his tone confidential, “bring your Blood Society in with the others, and say nothing of any problem. I think no one will question it.”

Heads Off was elated. It was so simple, now that he had the assurance of the Real-chief. Yes, the Bloods had been on their own for a season, and were now welcomed back. They had returned at a very fortunate time, and had turned the day for the Elk-dog band.

He located Long Elk and Standing Bird, and rapidly sketched in the details of his conversation with the Real-chief.

“Go back to the Elk-dogs,” he directed. “Tell Coyote and Red Dog what I have told you. I wish to see Red Dog as soon as he can get here.”

THREE SUNS LATER, AS DARKNESS FELL, THE PEOPLE GATHERED for the Big Council. Red Dog led his Bloods into the circle to take their places, well ahead of the arrival of the chiefs. He sat next to Standing Bird, by prearranged plan. At length they were joined by Heads Off.

Many Robes entered with dignity and the Big Council began.

The pipe ceremony progressed, and it was soon time for the chiefs to speak. Each in turn rose to tell of events in his own band.

First, Black Beaver of the Mountain band spoke. It had been a good winter with much game. They had seen no enemies.

“I am White Bear, of the Red Rocks,” stated the next chief. “Ours, too, has been a good year.” He sketched in a few details.

Next in the circle was the Elk-dog band. Heads Off rose, hands moist with tension. His elk-dog medicine glinted against his buckskin shirt.

“I am Heads Off, chief of the Elk-dog band,” he announced formally. “My brothers, ours has been a very big year.”

Also by Don Coldsmith

Buffalo Medicine
Daughter of the Eagle
Follow the Wind
The Long journey Home

A Victory for the People

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 battle, the attackers were withdrawing. Several of the young Elk-dog warriors seemed inclined to pursue, but Heads Off called an end to the battle.

“Fall back!” he shouted.

He must not allow them to divide their slim force. They would be unprotected in open pursuit.

“We will have another chance,” he reassured the young men.

Author's Note

When
The Elk-Dog Heritage
was first published in 1982, its story was unique. A novel told largely from the American Indian point of view, with one white man as the minority character?

The great Jack Schaefer, whose
Shane
had already become a classic, once commented on the reaction to his book
The Canyon
, which had had no whites at all: “The public just wasn't ready to read about Indians yet.”

The three finalists for the Western Writers' Golden Spur Award for Best Novel of 1982 were Fred Grove's
Match Race
, a story of early quarter horse racing; Terry C. Johnston's
Carry the Wind
, a fur trade story with strong Indian characters; and this book,
The Elk-Dog Heritage.
The Spur went to Grove's novel, a little closer to the “Western” of tradition, but it is worth noting that one of his strong characters was a half-blood Indian jockey.

“That was the year,” Johnston pointed out years later, “that it became okay to write about Indians.”

I think that's true. This was only my third novel, but all had carried the Indian theme. They were not even in proper sequence yet, and were merely stories of a soldier from Coronado's 1541 expedition to the Great Plains, left behind when they turned back. Later, these tales were rearranged in a series as the “Spanish Bit Saga,” now more than thirty books long, as we follow the descendants of Juan Garcia, the lost Spaniard.

This book is one of a few which helped to demonstrate in
1983 that the public was now “ â¦ ready to read about Indians.” It is a special pleasure to see it re-introduced.

Don Coldsmith
2002

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE ELK-DOG HERITAGE

Originally published by Doubleday in 1982

A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

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^Â®is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Book Design by Jane Adele Regina

eISBN 9781466820920

First eBook Edition : May 2012

First Forge Edition: September 2002
First Mass Market Edition: May 2003