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Authors: Don Coldsmith

BOOK: Buffalo Medicine
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Owl held the
girl in his arms and the two rocked softly, tenderly sharing the moment.
“So, I traveled until I reached the People.”
“When did you learn you were pregnant?”
“I already knew that, Owl. That was one reason I had to escape. I could not bear your baby among the Head Splitters. The child of our love must be raised by the People.”
He chuckled and hugged her more closely.
“Child of my life's springtime,” he teased, “it makes no difference at all, but you know the chances are very poor that the baby is mine. You were with Many Wives so long, and we were together only one night.”
Tears came to her eyes, and for a moment she pushed him away in anger. Then her face softened and she cuddled against him again.
“Of course,” she said gently, “you did not know. Many Wives was unable to father a child. That is why he tried
with every young woman he could buy. Owl, you are the only man who could be the father of Red Bird.” She looked directly, lovingly into his eyes. “Did you not see how much she looks like you?”
Yes, Owl thought, the child did resemble him a great deal. He had merely assumed that they would never know the exact truth. He had come to love the child as his own, and was prepared to raise her with that presumption, but this was even better.
Aiee
, this was indeed good medicine! The child was the proof of their one ecstatic night together. He clasped Willow closely to him.
Owl could almost feel sympathy for the strange, troubled Many Wives. The Head Splitter chief, though wealthy, had been tragically unhappy. His death, far from a brave death with dignity, had been an ignoble end. Both tribes would talk of this event about the fires for many seasons.
Aiee,
Owl thought. What a way to meet one's end! He could imagine the horror of waking to strangle in one's own blood. Many Wives would have lived long enough to understand what was happening and realize that he had been bested by this slim girl of the enemy. The hair prickled on the back of Owl's neck at the thought. He could hardly grasp the idea that this soft female creature curled against him could be capable of such an act. Still, he was tremendously proud of her. How fortunate he was to have such a woman call him “husband.”
How fortunate he was anyway, he realized. Aside from the fact that Willow's spirit and example had undoubtedly kept him alive, there was every indication that his medicine was strong. His good fortune had been too great to be mere accident. And, now that he was ready to accede to the full duties of the medicine man, he must begin work on his medicine.
Willow was delighted to help him. He began to gather and dry various plants which he noticed in their travel. With Red Bird safely in the care of her doting grandparents, Owl
and his wife would travel parallel to the moving band, investigating every nook and meadow for useful herbs. He freely instructed Willow in their identification and use. The wife of a medicine man was hardly less important than he.
The Mountain band was traveling toward the Big Council, as he had guessed. It would be held this season on the river the People called Oak River. There were bluffs and low flatlands in that area, and his father-in-law assured him that it would be a good place to cut poles for the lodge of the young couple. Cottonwoods grew in the flats in thick profusion, tall, slender, and straight. The women were already preparing skins and sewing the lodge cover for their home.
Meanwhile, they continued to stay in the lodge of White Hawk. This was customary, to live with the parents of the wife until one's own lodge was ready. Then, it became optional, in a case such as this, which band they would join. Owl was afraid this might present a problem, but found that Willow had already decided.
“Of course we will join your people. You are the medicine man of the Elk-dog band.”
He was glad that she understood. His debt to White Buffalo was one that he could never repay. It was his duty to the band of the old man to carry on his work.
The days passed pleasantly in travel. Owl found time to talk ceremonially with Black Beaver from time to time. They talked of tribal politics, and mutual acquaintances. Yes, Owl's family was well, the chief told him. His father was well respected by the entire tribe. The People had become a powerful force on the plains because of the power of Heads Off and his elk-dog medicine.
Owl had heard this saying all his life. He had been bored with it as a child. Now, from a more mature viewpoint, he began to appreciate the significance of the story. He longed to sit with his father for man-to-man talk. He would tell
him of his experiences with the Hairfaces, and let his father know that Owl understood why he had left them.
He longed, too, for the coming chance to tell White Buffalo of all the wondrous medicine he had observed. He doubted that he could adequately describe the smoke-log, and the carts pulled by spotted buffalo. Perhaps the old medicine man could tell him more of the use of the yellow medicine stones.
He had tried to tell Willow of these things. She had been fascinated by his descriptions of the strange multicolored birds raised by the Hairfaces. They were like turkeys but smaller, and could be killed and eaten when the Hairfaces wished, just as if they were dogs. Owl thought perhaps she believed this an exaggeration. She preferred to hear about El Gato's final flight off the mountain. He did not even tell her about the prisoner staked to the wall in the medicine lodge.
In one other area he must not share his secrets with anyone, however. He was assembling his medicine pouch. The contents must always be secret. Even if seen, they would be meaningless to anyone else but would represent the best and strongest of his own medicine.
At his request, Willow constructed a small pouch of soft buckskin. Without his asking, she and her mother decorated the bag with quills in a traditional design of the People, representing the owl. He was pleased with the result. From this time forth, the medicine pouch must be with him always. No one must ever open it, or know its contents except himself. He began to gather the medicine things.
There was a small piece of buckskin from the breech clout he had worn at the time of his escape.
Aiee,
that would be powerful! He added a splinter of the flint from which he had made weapons, and a tuft of hair from his elk-skin robe. Rabbit fur, plucked from the edge of his cape, and a fluffy feather he had picked up and saved from the owl which had helped him with the rabbit hunt. There
was a triangle of red pottery from the Valley of the Old Ones. This should be ancient medicine, and very strong.
A few blades of grass from the site of his buffalo kill were wrapped carefully around a tuft of the animal's wool. A knot plaited of hairs from the tail of his claybank mare acknowledged the medicine that helped him survive the storm and evade the Head Splitters.
One more item found its way into the pouch. It was a wisp of shiny black hair. He had stealthily cut this talisman from the very tip of Willow's long tresses one morning as she lay sleeping beside him. This, he considered, might well be the most important of all his medicine.
The site on
Oak River that had been chosen for the Sun Dance was one of Owl's favorites. Each year a location was selected for the next year's meeting, and some were favorable enough that they would be chosen again in a few seasons. The Oak River site was one of these. Owl could remember at least two other councils held here during his childhood.
A bend in the river, shaped like a fully drawn bow, enclosed a level area of meadow large enough for the hundreds of lodges of the People. Families in each band would still be within the river's arc, and not too far from water. The People enjoyed swimming, and the clear stream would be filled with splashing children for most of the time of the council.
An area upstream was designated for drinking water and for filling waterskins for cooking. Elk-dogs were to be watered downstream, below the swimmers. There was
sometimes encroachment, but no big problems usually arose. The use of the respective areas was enforced by the warrior societies, and in the case of the area for cooking and drinking, by the shrill resentment of the women. There were few violations.
It was late in the Moon of Roses when Black Beaver led his Mountain band into the council site. Young men had ridden ahead from a day's journey out. There were friends and relatives to greet, and tales to tell of the year's activities. Some people already at the camp rode out to meet the newcomers, and a festival atmosphere prevailed amid talk and laughter and warm greetings.
The self-appointed messengers had returned with the news that only two other bands were already at the camp ground. No, Owl's Elk-dog band was not one of them.
Finally, too impatient to wait, Owl rode ahead with White Hawk to see the encampment. They stopped on the rim of the bluff overlooking the river, and gazed across at the mushrooming village. The buzz of camp life drifted across the valley to their ears, and the old excitement of the occasion began to stir Owl's blood. Dogs yapped excitedly.
Each band was assigned a specific area in the camp circle, corresponding to their chiefs' places in the council. Owl could see that the Northern band was here, and already well settled. That was as it should be. Their chief, old Many Robes, was also the real-chief of all the People. It was the responsibility of his family to prepare the Dance Lodge. The large structure of poles and brush was already well under construction in the center of the camp. There were men on top of the lodge, and others were handing up armfuls of brush to be tied in place.
Another motion caught the corner of his eye, and Owl shifted his gaze. A lodge skin was being lifted into place by a group to the southwest of the Dance Lodge. That would be the Red Rocks band. Apparently they had only recently arrived, for a number of their lodges were still
merely pole skeletons, with the lodge covers laid out flat on the ground ready to hoist into position.
The spaces assigned the other bands were still empty. Owl mentally noted the area between the two already present, and to the northwest of the Dance Lodge. That would be the camping site of the Mountain band. Directly on the south side of the circle would be his father's Elk-dog group, formerly called the Southern band. To the northeast would be the Eastern band. The area to the southeast was left open as a doorway, just as a lodge's doorway faces southeast.
The two men decided to ride on down and pay their respects to the real-chief. They threaded their way down the bluff and splashed across the gravel bar at the crossing. Confusion was everywhere. Children chattered at play, dogs barked, women laughed and called to each other at their daily tasks.
Somewhere somebody was cooking hump ribs, and the smell nearly drove Owl to distraction. He felt that he had never had enough meat to eat since his reunion with the People. His tremendous appetite for broiled hump ribs had become a family joke.
A man lounged against a willow back rest outside his lodge and smoked thoughtfully. He nodded and smiled as they passed.
They located the chief's lodge with no difficulty, and dismounted to pay their respects. Old Many Robes had changed little, as far as Owl could see. He had always seemed incredibly old to the boy. His mind still appeared as sharp as the snap of a fox's teeth, however. He remembered Owl, and stated that he was delighted to hear that rumors of Owl's death were unfounded.
They smoked and then prepared to depart, just as the first of the Mountain band came over the bluff's rim and started the steep descent to the river. They hurried to assist in the preparation of the lodge site. Tall Grass paced
off the circle for the lodge, and then tied three of the poles together to form the initial tripod.
“Now,” she instructed, “you men go and cut poles for the lodge of Owl and Willow. We can do this.”
It was a wise suggestion; with hundreds of families moving into the area, new lodge poles would become scarce. In addition, the good camp sites would all be taken.
They took a horse to drag their poles, and spent until nearly dark cutting and trimming the best cottonwood poles they could find. When they returned, Tall Grass had laid out the circle for the new lodge.
“The cover will not be ready for a while,” she admitted, “but we will set the poles. This will save a good spot for your lodge.”
Owl realized that his mother-in-law wished to keep her daughter nearby as long as possible.
The men helped to lift the heavy lodge skin into place, and soon White Hawk's lodge was established in the new camp. Owl could still barely comprehend that the skeleton of new-cut poles in the adjacent spot would soon be the lodge of his, Owl's own family.
Two suns later, the Eastern band arrived. Again, there was much laughter and renewal of old friendships and acquaintances, much visiting of relatives, and increased quantities of confusion and barking of dogs. An incident also occurred which to Owl marked his first venture into full-fledged duties as a medicine man.
As the lodges of the newly arrived group were tilting into position, an anxious young woman came looking for him. Their Eastern band, she told Owl, had no medicine man, and her child was very ill. Owl had been pointed out as one who might help.
Owl was reluctant at first. He told the woman of his recent return from captivity. He had had no time to construct a headdress or rattles, and had no drum, even. Then he saw tears in the eyes of the young mother, and agreed to try.
He called to Willow, and asked her to borrow a drum. She darted away among the lodges. Then he rummaged in their possessions and brought out some of the herbs and grasses he had been collecting. He would wear his rabbit cape, for want of anything more suitable. He did take the time to paint his face, with a broad red band beneath each eye, across the cheekbone, and a narrow stripe of yellow down the nose.
Willow returned with a small drum, her eyes shining with excitement. They followed the young woman back to her lodge, stooped, and entered.
As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, Owl saw a boy of perhaps six summers lying on a robe. His eyes were wide open, and a look of fear and anxiety was fixed firmly on his face.
“He cannot stand or even sit,” the mother was saying. “He falls over.”
Owl nodded, and spoke a greeting to the husband, who hovered anxiously over the bed of his son. To himself he wondered, what manner of evil is this? He had expected merely the fever, or perhaps evils of the stomach. This was completely outside his experience. Well, first things must come first.
He took a pinch of plant material from a pouch and tossed it into the fire. A puff of fragrant smoke arose, and he nodded to Willow, giving her the necessary rhythm for the drum. The soft beat began, and Owl stepped into the cadences of the dance. The words of the chant came slowly. It had been long since he had practiced, but at last he finished the song, threw another pinch of incense at the coals, and turned to examine the child.
To his surprise, the skin was not flushed with fever. Slightly warm, perhaps, but not burning. The large dark eyes followed him, as he ran his hands over the boy's arms and legs. Again he encountered a surprising thing. The child's extremities were completely limp. Owl was
reminded of a deer he had once seen with a broken neck. The animal had been completely alert but unable to move. Yet in this case there was no injury. Could there be something else about the neck?
Owl ran gentle fingers up the sides of the boy's throat and moved the head quietly. He felt the scalp itself, searching over the surface for some hint. Then something touched his finger tip, something cool and smooth and round, behind the left ear. He parted the hair gently and felt more closely. Yes, it was there.
A fat, blood-swollen tick was attached firmly to the skin in the hollow behind the ear. The creature was as large as the ball of his thumb. Could this be the cause of the illness? Owl wasn't sure, but it was certainly evil-looking enough. He would assume that it might be, and act accordingly. He thought it best, however, to conceal his find in case it was not the problem.
White Buffalo had coached him carefully in sleight-of-hand, and made him practice long. With an exclamation, Owl jumped and threw his head aside, drawing the attention of the observers from the child. At the same time, he deftly plucked the insect free with a quick jerk and palmed the creature.
Standing, he nodded to Willow for a drumbeat, and started a triumphal dance around the fire. In a moment he tossed another pinch of medicine, and with it the offending bloodsucker, completely unnoticed.
At the end of the dance, he gave the mother a sprig of herb, to be crushed and given in water to the child. He would, he told them, return the following evening.
On the way back to the lodge, Owl was very dissatisfied. He had no idea whether the tick had been the cause of the problem. Suppose the evil spirit was still within the child? Of one thing he was certain. White Buffalo had always reminded him: In a day, an illness will be either better or worse. He slept poorly that night.
As it happened, the child was remarkably better. Before the appointed time even, the boy's father appeared, recounting in awed phrases how the youngster was able to sit up, eat, and even stand. Owl quickly rose to go and see, and Willow accompanied him.
The boy did indeed look almost well. Owl attempted to look as if he had known it all along, and Willow gazed at him with such adoration that he was embarrassed. The delighted parents insisted on presenting Owl with a beautifully tanned otter skin.
He still had his doubts, but tried not to show his insecurity. By evening, his reputation as a skilled medicine man was known throughout the camp.

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