People of the Fire (55 page)

 
          
 
"Heard you had another baby. A boy this
time?"

 
          
 
She frowned as the pack scraped the rock on
both sides of the narrow way. Please, don't let those straps fray! "No, to
Hungry Bull's dismay, Little Dancer got another daughter."

 
          
 
"Hmm. I'll bet you heard about
that."

 
          
 
She picked her way along the top of the slope
where the
colluvium
fanned under the tawny sandstone.
Rabbitbrush
, bitterbrush, serviceberry, and sage
rasped against her moccasins and skirt, scratching loudly on the pack. A warmth
rose within her. "No, not Little Dancer. To him, any child is a blessing,
a special gift he accepts with thanks ... the way most people should consider
every sunrise and sunset. For you never know when you'll see the last
one."

 
          
 
He grunted.

 
          
 
The thought of the future settled around her
heart like a frosty
spiderweb
on a winter-blue day.
Yes, she knew why he'd come. The nagging worry had begun to eat away at the
glow of both a perfect kill and the
fiill
pack.

 
          
 
"This is your shelter?" He stepped
around the brush and pointed.

 
          
 
"Next one down. That shelter belongs to
Three Toes and Meadowlark." As she spoke, Grasshopper came charging up the
slope.

 
          
 
"What did you get? Who's come?"
Grasshopper demanded, popping from foot to foot, eyes wide as he studied
Ramshorn
.

 
          
 
"This is the Red Hand warrior,
Ramshorn
. He's come to see Hungry Bull and the rest of the
men."

 
          
 
"To get them to go off to war against the
Short Buffalo People?" His jumping increased. "Didn't Blood Bear send
someone last year and Hungry Bull and my father told him they couldn't fight
against their relatives and—"

 
          
 
"Yes, yes, but this is a new year."
She poked at him playfully with her walking stick. "So go tell your father
and the rest that
Ramshorn
has come. Go on. At least
we'll feast him until his belly pops and send him on his way happy and full of
good memories."

           
 
Grasshopper grinned, whooping and jumping as
he bolted back down the trail. Before her shelter she could see the big black
wolf. As always, a shiver shot up her spine.

 
          
 
"I could help you with the pack,"
Ramshorn
offered again, carefully avoiding the issue
Grasshopper had broken open like an overripe gourd.

 
          
 
"Path's better here. We're almost
home." And better to be no more in your debt than possible.

 
          
 
As they neared the shelter she inhabited with
Little Dancer, the angry squall of a baby could be heard. "That sound grating
on your ears is the young one. Little Dancer might be the best father among the
all the people in the world, but for some reason his dugs just don't keep the
little ones happy."

 
          
 
Ramshorn
smiled
politely and gave her his hand as she climbed up the fill before the shelter.
The big black wolf slunk off the other side of the
midden
and paused downwind, testing the air guardedly. She groaned as she lowered the
pack and ducked out of the tumpline. "Hey, lazy man of mine! Come see what
your wife got while you were fooling around with the infants!"

 
          
 
Ramshorn
looked
around, sniffing the air. "I figured it would be a little more like a . .
. well, you know how a camp gets after it's been lived in. And you've stayed
her for how long?"

 
          
 
She grinned at him, hearing Little Dancer
pulling the flap back, yawning. How could he sleep through the baby? "We
have a lot of children around here. They need something to do, so they clean up
the winter scat and throw them in the drainage where the rains take them
away."

 
          
 
"Deer hocks?" Little Dancer asked,
blinking himself awake. He nodded to
Ramshorn
.
"Blood Bear wants warriors again?"

 
          
 
"The Short Buffalo People have already
sent scouts up the trails. More than ever before. We've caught some, others get
through. They're learning, though. We had three women killed and a couple of
children. Snaps Horn and some others caught them at a steep place and rolled
rocks down from above. The ones that lived were darted and cut up. Their pieces
hang from thongs over the old trail up the
Clear
River
."

           
 
Little Dancer nodded, flinching slightly,
which accented the scar in his cheek. "Seat yourself. It's nicer outside
than in. Are you thirsty?"

 
          
 
“Water would be wonderful. It's a long walk
since the last spring."

 
          
 
"Up by Monster Rock?"

 
          
 
"Is that what was pecked there?"

 
          
 
Little Dancer nodded, reaching for a
buffalo-gut bag that hung inside the door flap. "I think it originally
showed men throwing darts at the monster, but you can only see that when the
light's right. I guess it proves that not even the rocks last forever."

 
          
 
Ramshorn
took the
water, drinking greedily.

 
          
 
"How's White Calf?"

 
          
 
"Immortal."
Ramshorn
wiped the water from his lips, handing the bag back. "I imagine she's no
different than when you saw her this last winter. The skinnier she gets, the
feebler she gets, the keener her old mind is. Blood Bear stopped there with a
war party and she poked and prodded at him until he left in disgust muttering
that he should have killed her long ago. She just cackles and feeds it to him.
The Red Hand love it and most of the warriors can't wait to make it home and
tell the stories."

 
          
 
"I don't trust Blood Bear when it comes
to his dealings with White Calf. I don't suppose with all these Short Buffalo
warriors roaming everywhere that she'd move?"

 
          
 
"I doubt it, she says they won't bother
her. That she'll show them the real meaning of a Curse if one tries
anything."

 
          
 
"It would be best for everyone if the
Short Buffalo left well enough alone and went back to their plains."

 
          
 
"Perhaps."
Ramshorn
settled himself comfortably as Elk Charm ducked inside. After she rescued the
infant from its cradle board, she slipped her shoulder out of the dress and
emerged with the infant attached greedily to her right breast.

 
          
 
She eased herself down, sighing as her weary
back relaxed and the ache went out of her hips. "We'll have to go back for
the rest of the roots and the front half of the deer. I put brush over the head
so maybe the ravens and magpies won't get the eyes. That's your father's favorite
part.”

           
 
Little Dancer shot her a radiant smile.
"A good kill?"

 
          
 
"One shot." She beamed. "First
thing, I Sang for her spirit."

 
          
 
"Well, let's get
Ramshorn
comfortable and make him at home. Then if you'll show the way, I'll carry the
second load."

 
          
 
"Meadowlark might even look after this
one." She indicated the infant. "Your other daughter didn't get eaten
by a bear when I was gone?"

 
          
 
"She's off at Black Crow's making Cradle
Girl miserable." He frowned. "I wonder if that isn't her mother coming
out in her."

 
          
 
She plucked up her digging stick and poked him
until he cried in surrender and scrambled away on all fours.

 
          
 
Ramshorn
laughed
heartily. "It's good to see people having fun again." He took a deep
breath and pulled one muscular leg up to his chest. "The Red Hand worry so
much, I think we've forgotten how to laugh."

 
          
 
Elk Charm cocked her head. "We don't hear
much here on the west side of the mountain. Is it really that bad?"

 
          
 
Ramshorn
dropped his
eyes. "One of the women killed in that raid I told you about. . . well,
her name was Wet Rain."

 
          
 
Elk Charm's stomach lurched as if she were
falling.

 
          
 
"So, what are you going to tell
him?" Elk Charm demanded.

 
          
 
Little Dancer pursed his lips and took a quick
look at the sky, gauging the time left until dark. "What I always tell
them. It's their war. Until Heavy Beaver comes here, I don't have to face him.
And if I get a warning, I'll take us away first."

 
          
 
"You're worried about the Dream, aren't
you?"

 
          
 
He nodded slowly, like he always did, eyes
straying to the huge charcoal-colored wolf that padded quietly beside them,
tongue lolling, yellow eyes always alert. The Dream had lingered, almost like a
dizzy haze. Consciousness had returned to him that bitter winter day in the
wolf's den, and with it the memory of the choice he'd made while his soul
rested in Wolf Dreamer's hand. He'd chosen life—and pain—over the soft wonder
of death.

           
 
True to the First Man's words, the wolf
guardian had saved him from freezing and dragged him to its lair. There the
animal had curled around him, the warmth of life leaching into him like spring
rain through uncured moccasins.

 
          
 
Nor had the animal abandoned him on the
miserable trip to Two Smokes' shelter. He'd hobbled along on his bruised and
swollen leg, living off rose hips as they melted out of the drifts, sharing
part of wolf's catch, finally plucking the tops of biscuit root and shooting
star as they peeked through the snow. As he'd come closer to camp, he'd
fashioned a crude digging stick from branches snapped off a dead juniper and
dug biscuit root, consuming the rich sweet pulp raw.

 
          
 
The Dreams hadn't plagued him again until it
got on toward winter. Then, when the Dreams invaded his sleep, wolf became
restless, giving notice that time had come to make the trek to White Calf's for
the deep cold. And each year, he'd gone, spending the frigid nights in deep
discussions with the old woman, hearing the stories, talking about the ways of
the world, how Monster Bone Springs had almost washed away.

 
          
 
The world was changing—and he lived day by
day, hoping each wouldn't reach out and snatch him away.

 
          
 
“I made my choice that day on the
mountain," he said to Elk Charm. "Wolf Dreamer said he'd give me as
much time as he could. That same spring blizzard froze half of Heavy Beaver's
war-hungry young men. That loss bought us the time we've had so far."

 
          
 
He turned, searching her eyes, reveling in the
love he saw reflected there. "Listen, I made the promise. In the end, it's
up to me. I know it, Wolf Dreamer knows it, and you know it. We live one day at
a time, remember?"