Comanche Moon (29 page)

Blind Hema listened closely to what Ahumado said. Then she got up and moved slowly to the base of the cliff. She moved along the cliff for an hour or more, putting her ear close to the rock and listening. The longer she moved along, listening to the cliff, the more agitated she became. When she came back to where Ahumado waited, she was trembling--in a moment her teeth began to chatter and froth came out of her mouth.

Ahumado had known the old blind woman for many years and had never seen her so upset that froth came out of her mouth.

"He is calling the Serpent," old Hema said. "That is what he is doing when he scratches on the rock. He is sending signals to the great snake that lives in the earth.

He wants the Serpent to shake the mountain down on us." Then the old blind woman stumbled around the camp until she found someone who would give her tequila. Soon she became drunk--v drunk, so drunk, finally, that she fell on her face in the dust. She could not stand up, for drunkenness, but had to crawl around the camp on all fours. Seeing her on her hands and knees, some of the pistoleros began to tease her. They pulled up her skirts and pretended that they wanted to couple with her in the manner of dogs--of course it was only a joke. Hema was an old woman, too old for a man to be interested in.

Ahumado paid no attention to the teasing, and not much attention to what old Hema said about the Serpent. There were many people who believed that there was a great serpent in the center of the earth whose coilings and uncoilings caused the earth to move. These were not beliefs Ahumado shared. He had seen many large snakes in his youth, in the jungles of the south, but no snakes large enough to move the earth, and he did not believe that there was a serpent god who lived within the earth. Even if there was such a serpent in the earth there would be no reason for it to respond to the scratchings of a small americano.

The gods Ahumado believed in were Jaguar and Parrot; the thing that worried him most about Scull was that Parrot had flown by his cage and looked at him. None of the spirits were as intelligent as Parrot, in his view. In his youth in the jungles he had often seen parrots who could speak the ^ws of men. Though men could imitate the calls of many birds, no man could speak to a bird unless the bird was Parrot. Parrot was to be feared for his brain, Jaguar for his power.

Jaguar was not interested in the human beings; he might eat one but he would not talk to one. In his youth Ahumado had been like Parrot; he talked to many men--now that he was old he had become like Jaguar. Rather than talk to men he merely had Goyeto skin them, or else thrust them onto the sharpened trees.

In the morning old Hema stumbled back to her hut. She had forgotten her ^ws about the Serpent.

She had forgotten that her teeth chattered and that froth came out of her mouth. Still, Ahumado kept a close watch on Scull, up in his cage. Scull was still scratching on the rock with the little file that had been Tudwal's, but Ahumado no longer cared about that very much. He only wanted to know if Parrot would come again.

When Kicking Wolf was halfway home he began to encounter signs of the great raid. He crossed the tracks of many bands of warriors, all of them going north. The bands travelled in a leisurely way--they drove many horses ahead of them and they were not being pursued. At first he thought that only a few bands had been raiding, but then, as he saw more and more tracks, all flowing north, he began to realize that a great raid had been launched against the whites. Twice he came upon the bodies of white children who had died in travel.

Several times he saw pieces of garments that had been torn off captive women, either by thorny brush or by warriors who had outraged the women and left their clothes.

By good luck he even came upon three stray horses and was able to catch one of them. The sorrel horse of Three Birds had travelled a long way in rocky country. Its hooves were in poor condition. Kicking Wolf had been about to abandon him and go home on foot; it was a boon to find the three horses.

The night after he caught the fresh horses Kicking Wolf heard the faint sound of singing from a camp that was not too distant. Even though at first he could scarcely hear the singing he recognized the voice of one of the singers, a brave named Red Hand, from his own band. He had often raided with Red Hand and did not think he could mistake his voice, which was deep, like the bellow of a bull buffalo. Red Hand was the fattest man in the tribe, and the biggest eater. When there was meat Red Hand ate until he fell back in sleep; when he woke up he ate some more. He was something of a braggart, who, when he was not eating, sang of his own exploits. Though fat, Red Hand was quick, and deadly with the bow. He had three wives who complained that he didn't lie with them enough. When Red Hand was at home he devoted himself to eating, and to the making of arrows.

Kicking Wolf was tired, but he was also hungry. Ahumado had left him no weapons and he had had a hard time getting anything to eat on his trip north. He survived on roots and wild onions and several fish he speared with a crude spear when he was crossing the Rio Grande. He had been so hungry that he had been almost ready to kill Three Birds' horse and eat him.

Though he had been about to sleep he decided it was better to go on to the camp where Red Hand was singing. There would probably be food in the camp, unless Red Hand had eaten it all.

The camp was farther away than he thought, but Red Hand and a few others were still singing when Kicking Wolf appeared on his new horse. There were almost twenty warriors in the party; they had two captive girls. The warriors were so confident that they hadn't even posted guards. When Kicking Wolf appeared they all stopped singing and stared at him, as if he were someone they didn't know. Red Hand had been eating venison but he stopped when he saw Kicking Wolf.

"If you are a ghost please go somewhere else," Red Hand said politely.

Several of the warriors looked at Kicking Wolf as if they thought he might have come from the spirit world, the place of ghosts.

"I am not a ghost," Kicking Wolf assured them. "I hope you don't mind if I eat some of this deer meat. I have been on a long trip and I am very hungry." He could tell that some of the warriors still thought he might be a ghost, but after they watched him eat for a while they got over their suspicions.

Then they all wanted to brag about the great raid they had been on. Several warriors talked so fast that Kicking Wolf had to delay his eating in order to listen politely. They were men of his own band, and yet he felt like a guest. The warriors had been off fighting together, whereas he had been on a quest of a different kind. His own vision was still damaged; he still saw two where there was one. The men talked to him about all the whites they had killed and all the captives they had taken.

"I don't see so many captives," Kicking Wolf said. "There are only two girls and one of them looks as if she might die tonight." Then he looked at Red Hand.

"I found you because you were singing so loudly," he said. "If the bluecoat soldiers were after you they could find you too. You didn't even put out a guard. The bluecoats could sneak up and shoot you all down with rifles. Buffalo Hump would not be so careless if he were here." "Oh, he went to the Great Water, with Worm," Red Hand said. "We don't have to worry about the bluecoat soldiers. They tried to fight us and we chased them away." Red Hand had an arrogant side that was apt to come out when he was questioned or criticized. Once Buffalo Hump had hit him in the head with a club when he was talking arrogantly. The blow would have killed most warriors but it only made a lump on Red Hand's head.

"I am only telling you what any warrior should know," Kicking Wolf said. "You ought to post a guard. Though I have travelled a long way and am tired I will be your guard tonight if no one else wants to." Before anyone could speak or offer to stand guard Red Hand started talking about the rapes he committed while on the raid. While Kicking Wolf was listening he happened to glance across the fire and when he did he got a shock: he thought he saw Three Birds sitting there--the sight was so startling that Kicking Wolf began to shake. He thought perhaps the men had been right at first to consider him a ghost. Perhaps he .was a ghost. He was becoming more and more disturbed when the warrior who seemed to be Three Birds stood up and went to make sure that the captive girls were tied well. At that point Kicking Wolf saw that the warrior was not Three Birds, but his brother, Little Wind. The two brothers looked so much alike that it was confusing. But the warrior seeing to the girls' bonds was Little Wind. He had been away on a hunt when the Buffalo Horse was stolen--he might not even know that his brother, Three Birds, had helped Kicking Wolf take him.

"Your brother, Three Birds, did a brave thing," he told Little Wind, when the man came back and sat down.

Little Wind received this news modestly, without comment. Like Three Birds he seldom spoke, preferring to keep his sentiments to himself.

"He helped me steal the Buffalo Horse from Big Horse Scull," Kicking Wolf informed him.

"Yes, everybody knows that," Red Hand said rudely. "The two of you went away with the Buffalo Horse and missed the great raid.

"None of us had time to go look for you," Red Hand added, in such a rude tone that Kicking Wolf would have hit him with a war club if one had been handy.

"You be quiet! I have to tell Little Wind that his brother is dead," he said, a statement that caused Red Hand to shut up immediately. The death of a warrior was serious business.

"I hope he died bravely," Little Wind said. "Can you tell me about it?" "I did not see him die," Kicking Wolf said. "He may even be alive but I don't think so. He went with me to Mexico, to the Yellow Cliffso where the Black Vaquero has his camp." The warriors who had been moving around, doing small chores, stopped at this moment. The camp became silent. There were no more rude comments from Red Hand. All the warriors knew that to go willingly to the country of Ahumado required great courage. It was a foolish act, of course, for any warrior who wanted to continue with his life; but it was the valor of the act, not its wisdom, that stilled the warriors now. They stood or sat where they were, quiet, in awe. For two warriors to go alone into Mexico and put themselves at the mercy of the Black Vaquero was a thing of such manliness that the warriors wanted to be quiet for a time and think about it.

Kicking Wolf waited a bit, in silence, for the news of what he was saying to be absorbed.

"I stole the Buffalo Horse and took him to Mexico," he said. "I took him to Ahumado--I wanted to do it." He saw that the warriors understood him. Many warriors would leave the band for a few weeks, to go on a quest, or see someplace they wanted to see. Such journeys became a part of the strength of a warrior.

"Ahumado caught us," he said. "He tied me to a horse and made the horse run away.

He wanted to kill me but Big Horse Scull found me while I was in the blackness and cut me loose." "Ah's!" came then from several warriors-- exclamations and looks of puzzlement. Why would Big Horse Scull do such a thing?

"I did not see him," Kicking Wolf said.

"I only saw his track. But now I see two things where there is one." Little Wind waited patiently for Kicking Wolf to tell him more about his brother.

"Three Birds decided to go with me to the Yellow Canyon," Kicking Wolf said.

"Even though I told him I would seek Ahumado, he decided to come. When we found Ahumado he was behind us. He tied me to a horse and made the horse run. That is the last time I saw Three Birds. Ahumado kept him." The warriors continued to be silent. All of them had heard what Ahumado did to Comanches when he caught them. They knew about the cages, the pit, and the sharpened trees. Little Wind felt proud of his brother, for doing such a brave thing.

In his life with the tribe Three Birds had never been considered especially brave. He did not lead the hunt when buffalo were running in a great stampede. He had never gone off alone to kill a bear or a cougar, though such a thing was common enough.

Several of the warriors at the campfire had done such acts of bravery. Three Birds was seldom in the front of a charge, when there was an attack. His main skill as a warrior had been his ability to move quietly--t was why Kicking Wolf had chosen him to help steal the Buffalo Horse.

Since his wives and children had all died of the sickness Three Birds had been sad--Little Wind knew. He still had his quietness of movement, but he did not join in things. Little Wind thought his brother's sadness might explain why he had decided to do such a brave thing.

When Kicking Wolf finished talking he stood up to go sit on guard, as he had offered to do when he arrived and found that the camp was unguarded. But, when he stood up, Red Hand quickly gestured for him to sit again. Red Hand had always liked Kicking Wolf and was ashamed that he had been rude to him, earlier. Kicking Wolf had done a great thing, a thing that would be sung about for many years. He should not have to listen to rudeness. It was just that his sudden appearance had startled everyone a lot. Some had taken him for a ghost. Red Hand had sought to challenge the ghost with his rudeness. But, now that he had heard Kicking Wolf's story, he was eager to make amends.

"I see that you are hungry," Red Hand said.

"You should eat some of this deer meat. I will stand guard tonight." Kicking Wolf politely accepted Red Hand's offer. He stayed where he was, but did not eat much of the deer meat. Now that he was back with the warriors of his own band, a great tiredness came over him. He lay down in the warm ashes of the fire and was soon asleep.

Pearl Coleman pushed down her sadness every morning and tried to make her husband a sizable and tasty breakfast. She sat Long Bill down to a good plate of biscuits and four tasty pork chops. Then she told him, as she had every morning since his return, that she wanted him to quit the rangers and quit them now.

"I can't stand you going off in the wilds no more, Bill," she said, beginning to weep at the memory of her recent ordeal. "I can't stand it. I get so scared my toes cramp up when I get in bed. I can't get to sleep with my toes cramping up like that." Though he appreciated the biscuits and the pork chops, Long Bill let his wife's remarks pass without comment--he also let her tears flow without trying to staunch them. Tears and entreaties for him to quit the rangers had become as predictable a part of the morning as the sunrise itself.