8
ON THE DAY before the Lone Eaters were to strike camp and journey to the trading house on the Bear River, Fast Horse sat alone behind his father’s lodge, staring up at the Beaver Medicine bundle, which hung from a tripod. It was a large bundle, the size of a blackhorn calf, and its rawhide covering was yellowed and cracked. He had taken to sitting there by himself, day after day, looking at the bundle, trying to feel its power. His father, Boss Ribs, had kept the bundle for as long as he could remember, and both his father and he assumed that one day the bundle would be passed to him. His father had been waiting until Fast Horse was old enough, and patient enough, to learn all the songs and rituals associated with the objects in the bundle. All the living things in the country of the Pikunis had given their songs to the medicine bundle, and the power contained within was immense. But only if the ceremony was done right. And so Boss Ribs had been in no hurry to begin the teaching of his son. The time would come soon enough.
But all that had changed now because Fast Horse had changed. He had become an outsider within his own band. He no longer sought the company of the others, and they avoided him. The girls who had once looked so admiringly on him now averted their eyes when he passed. The young men considered him a source of bad medicine, and the older ones did not invite him for a smoke. Even his own father had begun to look upon him with doubt and regret. As for Fast Horse, the more he stared at the Beaver Medicine, the more it lost meaning for him. That would not be the way of his power. His power would be more tangible and more immediate.
Cold Maker—he scoffed at Cold Maker. One day, on one of his solitary, unsuccessful hunts, he had dismounted and challenged Cold Maker to do him in, to kill him on the spot; he had nothing to live for. At first, he had trembled, but when nothing happened, he grew louder, more angry. At the time, he wanted to die, he welcomed death, he wanted Cold Maker to clutch his heart in his icy fingers. He sang his death song and waited. Nothing. And then he grew bitter and he hated his people and all they believed in. They had no power. They were pitiful, afraid of everything, including the Napikwans, who were taking their land even as the Pikunis stood on it. Only Owl Child had power and courage. He took what he wanted; he defied the Napikwans and killed them. He laughed at their seizers and chiefs when they threatened revenge. And he laughed at his own people for their weak hearts.
As he stared at the scabby medicine bundle and thought these things, Fast Horse began to hear voices, shouts, and he saw some children running toward the east edge of camp. There was always a lot of commotion in camp, especially when visitors arrived, and Fast Horse thought they were probably hunters from one of the other bands. Out of mild curiosity, he stood and walked in that direction.
By the time he reached the edge of camp, there were already fifteen or twenty people standing there, talking among themselves. “I don’t recognize the horse,” said one. “Nor the strange blanket with which he hides his face,” said another. “He is not from one of our camps,” said a third.
The horse was small and white, with dark scars showing through the hair. It walked with a slow, awkward gait, as though it had been ridden into the ground at one time and had never recovered.
When the figure was a short distance from the camp, he slid his right leg over the horse’s neck and jumped off. The horse lowered its head and began to eat the spring grass.
Fifty paces from the group the thin figure stopped and shook his head. The blanket fell away from his face, and the woman beside Fast Horse sucked in her breath. The face was gaunt, the skin stretched tight over the bones and deeply pocked. The man held his blanket over his arms in front of him. The people stared silently.
“Ha! Don’t you recognize me, Lone Eaters? Have I been away so long, have I changed so much?” The man laughed. “You, Eagle Ribs, don’t you know me?”
Suddenly Eagle Ribs, who had been at the front of the group, shouted and dropped his musket. He ran to the man, crying, “It is you! It is you!” He hugged the thin figure and called back to the people, “It is Yellow Kidney! He returns to his people!” In his excitement he had knocked the blanket from his friend. And now he saw the women put their hands to their mouths and cry out. The men stared. “What is this? Wretched Lone Eaters! Do you not recognize your brother?” He turned to his friend, and Yellow Kidney held up his hands. Where there had been fingers now there were none. Eagle Ribs started back. His mouth was open as though he had been caught in the middle of laughter, but no sound came out.
The people ran forward, past the dumb Eagle Ribs, to touch and embrace their brother. There was much crying. Two of the women ran toward camp to tell Heavy Shield Woman that her man had come home. A boy of ten winters picked up Eagle Rib’s musket and tried to hold it to his cheek. Fast Horse was gone.
“This then is my story. You, Eagle Ribs, you, White Man’s Dog, know the truth of what I am about to tell. But you don’t know the all of it.” Yellow Kidney looked at the men of the various groups of the All Friends society. They had smoked, and then they had eaten, and now many of them filled their short-pipes. The big lodge was heavy with the smell of meat and smoke. Three Bears burned some sage in the fire to sweeten it up. Then he too sat back. The women who had served the men were gone.
Yellow Kidney told of the journey to the Crow land, of the cold walking nights, of the lack of meat, and of the moment he sent White Man’s Dog with the other young men to steal some of the grazing horses. “Then I sent Eagle Ribs in one direction and Fast Horse in another. There were fat buffalo-runners tied up all through the camp. The camp itself was as large as the valley, four hundred lodges at least. There were Napikwans there too, traders or hide hunters. They were thick with the Crows, many of them sitting at fires in the camp. But finally it grew quiet. We had let the last of the drunken revelers wear themselves out. I pulled my robe up over my head and walked into the camp. Young Bear Chief and Double Runner have seen me do this before. I walked boldly among the lodges until at last I was standing in the middle of the camp, beside the great lodge of their smoking societies. There I looked about, and it did not take me long to find what I was looking for. Night Red Light looked down from a hole in the clouds and I saw clearly, not twenty-five paces away from where I stood, the tipi of the blue buffalo. As you know, this is the lodge of our old enemy, Bull Shield, who has made the Pikunis cry many times. I approached his lodge with caution and there, tied to the lodgepole, was the most beautiful black horse I had ever seen. Now if I had been alone on this raid, I would have gone into the lodge and cut Bull Shield’s throat. Oh, how I wish I had! But I was responsible for the young men who were with me, so I decided to take the horse and leave. As I cut the lariat, I whispered in his ear. Then I began to lead him away. He was eager to come with me. One could tell he was an intelligent animal.
“But we had not gone a hundred steps before I began to hear a loud noise at the edge of the camp. I lowered the robe from my head and turned my ears in that direction. The small wind was behind me and so I could not hear distinctly. My ears turned as big as the wags-his-tail’s and soon I heard words, and when I could make them out they were fierce words indeed—‘Oh, you Crows are puny, your horses are puny and your women make me sick! If I had time I would ride among you and cut off your puny woman heads, you cowardly Crows’—said in the tongue of our people as clear that night as I tell you now.”
As if by magic, all the men quit smoking and swung their heads in the direction of Eagle Ribs.
“No, no.” Yellow Kidney laughed. “Eagle Ribs is a brave and wise horse-taker. He knows the consequences of such action. It was not his voice I heard that night.”
“Fast Horse!” It was out of his mouth before White Man’s Dog could think.
Yellow Kidney’s dark eyes locked on his. After a moment he said, “It will be known. There is time.”
“Where is Fast Horse?” said Three Bears. “He is a member of the Doves. He should be here.” He nodded in the direction of the Doves, who sat the farthest away. Two of them stood and slipped out the entrance.
“I heard the first stirrings of excitement in a nearby lodge, and so I drew my knife. When a man emerged, carrying a short-gun, I stepped close to him and drove my knife into his heart. Then I began to hurry away, still leading the black horse, to the north edge of the camp. Three men ran past me, then another two, and I began to feel that my luck would hold, that I would be able to mount the black horse and ride off toward the Napikwans’ wagons and there turn west to rejoin my comrades. But I saw a group of men beside a lodge, talking excitedly, and one pointed at me. I knew that I had been found out, so I dropped the horse and ran behind a tipi and ran some more. I heard shots being fired and more men yelling. Three men were running in my direction but they hadn’t seen me yet, so I ducked into a lodge. I had my knife ready to strike the dwellers. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light of a night fire I saw several bodies along the walls, but none of them stirred. I began to think they were just piles of robes when on the far side I saw a figure rise up and throw the robe back. I had made up my mind to attack but I saw that it was a young girl. She just looked at me and her eyes were heavy with sleep. I thought it odd that the other figures had not been awakened by the gunshots. But this thought was erased quickly by the sounds of voices outside the lodge. I know enough of the Crow tongue to understand that they were saying I had come this way, that I had passed by. I had no choice but to try to hide so I crept over to the girl, put my hand over her mouth and crawled into the robe with her. I had just pulled it over our heads when I heard the flap being opened. There was a long silence as the observer passed his eyes over the robes. Than a couple of shots rang out a way off and I heard the flap drop shut.
“After a while I took my hand from the girl’s mouth but she lay there with her eyes closed. I felt under the robe and she was naked and her skin was hot. I felt her breasts and her belly and they were hot and damp. I couldn’t understand because the fire was hardly big enough to see by. It was cold in that lodge, but she was naked and sweating. The mind does funny things when it is confused, and I began to feel a stirring of excitement for this hot girl. By now all the commotion was at the other end of the camp. I found her there between the legs and entered her—not without some difficulty, for she was only on the verge of becoming a woman. When I had had my pleasure, I rolled away, and that’s when it hit me that she hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound, only lay there with her eyes shut. I became afraid at these unusual circumstances, so I crept to the fire and took a burning stick. I pulled the robe back and looked at her. I had seen it before, some winters ago when our people were struck down, when half of the Lone Eaters perished. There on her face and chest were the dreaded signs. I had copulated with one who was dying of the white-scabs disease.”
For the second time that night White Man’s Dog spoke without thinking. “My dream! My dream!” He covered his mouth in horror, but the words were unmistakable in the silence of the lodge.
Rides-at-the-door looked sharply at his son. Several of the other men murmured their disapproval. It wasn’t good for a young man to interrupt his elder, especially during such an important account.
White Man’s Dog felt his face burn with shame; but more than that, he felt a heaviness come into his heart that made him weak, unable to speak even if he wanted to.
Yellow Kidney looked across the fire. “You heartless ones! Do not chide this young man. He acquitted himself bravely and wisely against the Crows. And now I hear from Heavy Shield Woman that he hunted for my family in my absence. He is a good young man, and I thank him before you members of the honor societies.”
But White Man’s Dog had not heard Yellow Kidney’s words. He knew too well what had happened in that lodge. He had been there in his dream and the girl, the white-faced girl, had lifted her arms, not for him but for Yellow Kidney. Why hadn’t he told Yellow Kidney of his dream? Such a dream would have been a sign of bad medicine and they might have turned back. Yellow Kidney would still be a whole man, not this pitiful figure....
It had grown quiet in the big lodge as the men watched Yellow Kidney fumble for his pipe and tobacco sack. The beading on the sack was of a different pattern from those used by the Pikunis. With his fists Yellow Kidney was able to dip his pipe into the sack and fill it. He held the pipe in the palm of his left hand and held a blunt twig in the crease of his other palm, tamping the mixture. One of the younger men picked a burning stick from the fire and came forward to light the pipe.
“Thank you, Calf Shirt. And now you, like the others, wonder what happened to my hands to make them thus.” Yellow Kidney puffed on his pipe and looked around the lodge. He had the calmness of a man who has lived through the worst of it and questioned the worth of survival. He removed the pipe with a stubby scarred hand and continued. “As I said, my mind was very confused and I became frightened. I began to move around to the various robes and I threw them back and saw by the light of my fire stick that they were all young girls, dead, and covered with the white scabs. Oh, I was frightened. I dropped the burning stick and rushed out of there, not caring what I would encounter. Anything was better than that death lodge. As I stood outside, trying to keep my guts down, I noticed that it was snowing heavily. This end of camp was still quiet. I thought my luck would hold, in spite of what I had seen and done in that lodge. I thought the snow would add to the confusion and help me to escape. But then I saw two young men come toward me from a tipi off to my right. In my haste, I had left my robe inside the death lodge. It didn’t take them long to recognize me as an enemy and one of them hurled a lance at me. I managed to duck out of the way, but the other had a musket, and as I turned to run I heard a blast and my right leg buckled. I had been shot in the thigh. And now they were upon me and one of them grabbed my hair and I felt cold steel against my forehead. They meant to scalp me.