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Authors: Don Coldsmith

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BOOK: The Changing Wind
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“They are traveling too,” he told Hump Ribs. “Women and children… it is as usual.”

Still, there was a thrill of excitement and potential danger that swept through the band like a chill wind. Children clung closely to their mothers, and men checked their weapons, all the while hoping they would not be used. Hump Ribs, Mouse Roars, and another warrior moved forward to the low ridge to meet the delegation from the enemy column. Coyote and White Buffalo followed closely, and the rest of the People grouped closely together some distance behind, protected by the rest of the warriors.

There were the usual greetings, small talk, and comments on the weather, carried on in hand-signs between the chiefs. Then an apparently meaningless observation by the enemy leader seized the holy man’s attention.

“I see,” signed the Head Splitter, “that you have an elk-dog.”

There was a moment of confusion, there being no standard hand-sign for “elk-dog,” but there was little doubt of meaning as the Head Splitter pointed to the animal. The mare was grazing calmly while Heads Off had dismounted to hold the rein.

“Yes,” Hump Ribs replied calmly, as if elk-dogs were an everyday sight, “it belongs to an ally who is spending the season with us.”

White Buffalo smiled to himself. Hump Ribs was certainly handling the situation well. Then a slight doubt arose in the back of the holy man’s mind. It concerned the Head Splitter’s attitude. The enemy chief had also tried to act as if elk-dogs were commonplace. This implied that the animal was not unfamiliar to him. As far as could be observed, this band of Head Splitters had no elk-dog, but they had
seen
them. This indicated, in turn, that there were more elk-dogs on the plains. The implications of this idea made the holy man’s thoughts whirl. What if the Head Splitters too could hunt as easily as the hair-faced outsider?
They would become wealthy and powerful. And dangerous, more dangerous than before. The People might easily be driven from the Tallgrass Hills that had been their home for many generations.

Now White Buffalo was more confused than ever. This, perhaps, was the importance of the elk-dog vision. But how did the office of the holy man fit into this? He still did not understand.

39

T
he Sun Dance that year was memorable. The Southern band had much news to report at the Big Council, and Hump Ribs was equal to the task. He told the council in glowing terms of the elk-dog and of the powers of Heads Off with the lance. It was obvious that the Southern band was well fed and well dressed, and that the reason was the outsider and his hunting skill. Of course, each member of that band took pride in telling of their collective good fortune.

White Buffalo was quick to note the difference in the condition of the Southern band from the others’. The Red Rocks band, for instance, looked thin and ragged by comparison. They had eaten many of their dogs. The Eastern band had also seen better winters. Maybe, thought the holy man, the elk-dog was even more important than he had thought.

All of the People were fascinated by the elk-dog and her foal. All the bands had heard of these creatures, but none had seen them except the Red Rocks. They sometimes ranged far to the southwest and had encountered a band of strangers, they said, who possessed such an animal. It was used as a dog to carry packs, but they had not seen it ridden.

Because of the great interest, Hump Ribs, through Coyote, arranged for a demonstration of the hunt as carried out by the outsider. Heads Off was willing, and the wolves began to scout for buffalo. A small herd was located and arrangements made for an appropriate site where the spectacle could be well seen. White Buffalo took an active part in the preparation. How could he do otherwise? He must strengthen his own position by pointing out the effectiveness of his medicine in attracting the buffalo. Heads Off
also seemed to take an interest in the preparations, as one should who wishes to show his medicine well, thought the holy man.

The meadow which had been selected was relatively long and narrow, bordered along one side by the stream, and on the other by the ridge where the People sat. From generations of hunting buffalo, the People understood the importance of quiet and concealment. Even so, there was a tension in the air as the first of the herd entered the meadow from the far end. White Buffalo found his palms sweating. The wary old cow in the lead paused, sniffed the air, and finally seemed to decide that the meadow was safe. She led the way, the other animals scattering to feed in the grassy flat.

Now Heads Off nudged his elk-dog forward from behind the shoulder of the hill. He chose a fat yearling bull and carefully moved toward it. A good choice, thought White Buffalo. That one will be excellent eating. It was a distinctive animal also, an odd mouse-colored hue, different enough to attract attention. Yes, a good choice.

The demonstration went extremely well. Heads Off pursued, and managed to drop his quarry directly in front of the party of warriors who sat on the ridge with the real-chief. A cheer of victory went up, a yell of triumph, led by the voices of the proud Southern band. Heads Off turned the elk-dog and rode slowly up the slope to face the assembled council. He lifted his lance.

“I give this kill,” he shouted, “to Many Robes, chief of the People!”

Aiee
, what a clever thing, White Buffalo thought. This outsider understands the use of medicine. Possibly Coyote had suggested such a dedication, but no matter—it was good. That distinctive skin… no matter where Many Robes chose to use it, the robe would always recall Heads Off and the strength of his elk-dog medicine.

The rest of the annual celebration—the Sun Dance, with its prayers, sacrifices, and ceremonies—seemed almost an anticlimax now. The days were completed, and the People began to disperse to their separate areas for the season.

None could fail to note, however, as they went their separate ways, that the Southern band had grown. Seven lodges, with possibly ten hunters, counting young men still
in their parents’ homes. Of course, White Buffalo observed, some were the opportunists, always ready to switch allegiance for some gain in social status. Everyone knew who these were.

But there were others whose reputations were above reproach. He noted Two Pines, of the Red Rocks, with his family. Another lodge appeared to be that of Two Pines’s daughter and her husband. Well, the Red Rocks had suffered. Not from lack of leadership, perhaps, but from the whims of fortune. They would be in a time of change, some seeking a band with a stronger chief. Such was the shifting of political prestige. These changes did take place, and White Buffalo was pleased that it was to the Southern band that the discontented were shifting. Sheer numbers would strengthen the band’s reputation.

Of course, he knew that it was largely the novelty of the stranger and the elk-dog that created the attraction. No matter. Once the newcomers became members of the band, even for a season, they would see the leadership of Hump Ribs. At least, the more desirable individuals would. It was a good feeling to see others wishing to join the Southern band. It had long been one of the weaker bands of the People. Now the prestige was moving their way, and it was good. Possibly, when Heads Off went to rejoin his own tribe, the numbers would shift away again. That was to be expected. Meanwhile, let the Southern band enjoy the honor.

The hunting was good that season. Every lodge was able to store an adequate supply of food for the winter with the help of Heads Off. The young outsider seemed to enjoy using his skills for this purpose. But the time came when Heads Off announced that he must leave. The small elk-dog was growing rapidly, and Heads Off thought that it should travel well now.

There were many who were sad to see Heads Off go. Especially disappointed were the two young men who had spent so much time learning of the elk-dog. Strangely, though, the holy man found himself reluctant too. After the threat to his authority had been set aside, he had rather enjoyed the novelty of the elk-dog, as well as its efficiency. White Buffalo actually found himself wishing for Heads Off to stay. There would be great benefits from the elk-dog’s
continued presence, not only to the Southern band but to the whole tribe. It was apparent that if Heads Off remained, there were now not one, but
two
elk-dogs. That would make the hunt even easier as the younger animal grew to maturity. Possibly Long Elk or Standing Bird could learn to ride and use the long spear. Already, Heads Off had allowed them to sit on the larger animal.

White Buffalo did not share these thoughts, even with Crow. A few moons ago he had actually considered killing the stranger, and now—
aiee!
It was a good joke on himself; unfortunately, one he could not share. Now he wondered if there might be some way he could prevent Heads Off’s departure.

As the season drew to a close, the preparations of Heads Off to depart neared completion. Finally, the actual day was decided. There were many who regretted this loss. Life had been much easier when the difficult part of the hunt had been carried out by the hair-faced newcomer.

“One more hunt, Heads Off,” some of the young men requested. “Let us go into the winter with plenty.”

“It is good,” Heads Off agreed. “Tomorrow, a last hunt, and then I must go.”

White Buffalo rose early and watched the hunters go out. He wished them well and performed the ceremony for success in the hunt. But then, after their departure, the holy man performed a private ceremony outside the camp, unknown even to Crow. He burned fragrant herbs, chanted, and prayed that the stranger who had become one of them
not
depart. He wondered if this complete reversal of position might displease the spirits but decided that he must risk it.

It was later in the day that White Buffalo saw Heads Off ride in, jerking the elk-dog savagely to a stop. He was puzzled. Word had been sent back that the kill had been made, and the butchering parties had already gone out. Why, then, was Heads Off so furious? The young man stripped saddle and bridle from the horse, released it to graze, and stalked away to be alone. In his present mood, no one dared speak to him. Curious, White Buffalo waited.

Sun Boy had passed the top of his run before people started to trickle back to the camp, laden with meat. Impatiently, White Buffalo waited, wondering what event had provoked the rage he had seen in Heads Off Finally, Coyote
approached and came straight to the lodge of the holy man.

“What is it?” White Buffalo demanded. “Heads Off came back, and—”

“Aiee
, Uncle, he was mad with rage! He broke his spearpoint.”

“Broke
it? But it is made of the shiny metal… it can be broken?”

“Yes! It struck a bone and snapped. It was maybe this long, you know, and broke near the middle.” Coyote indicated with his hands. “My wife found the broken point as she butchered and gave it to him, but it appears that it is useless.”

“But spearpoints do break,” White Buffalo observed.

“Yes, but he has no other.”

White Buffalo began to understand. The weapon had been part of the medicine of the elk-dog. It was different from any other weapon and essential to the hunt as Heads Off performed it. Without it, he could not hunt, and…
aiee
, without it, Heads Off was virtually unarmed!

“I will talk to Stone Breaker,” Coyote said. “Maybe he can make a new point.”

During the next days, it was quite unpleasant to be around Heads Off. It was a little while before the others realized the gravity of the loss. Stone Breaker did indeed craft a magnificent spearpoint of the finest blue-gray stone. Some said that it may have been his finest work yet. However, when Stone Breaker and Coyote took the point to give to Heads Off, the young man’s reaction was quite irrational. He shouted angrily at them in his own tongue and seized the carefully crafted spearpoint in a rage. He threw it into the river, accidently cutting his finger on its sharp edge as he did so. This, of course, further angered him, and they felt it best to let him alone.

In a few days, when his rage quieted, Heads Off did seem apologetic. Stone Breaker managed to recover the spear point from the crystal-clear stream, but he and Coyote decided to wait awhile before approaching the subject again.

Heads Off made several attempts to repair the broken point. Coyote faithfully reported to White Buffalo on these occasions. The metal could be heated in a fire until it
glowed red, like hot coals in the ashes. Heads Off then tried to make the broken parts stick together by pounding them with a rock. Coyote had assisted him in this, but each effort was a failure.

“Once, I thought it would work,” Coyote related. “It did stick together until he tapped it on the ground, and then it snapped again.”

Finally, Heads Off gave up the effort at repair. He remained withdrawn and depressed, and no one had summoned courage to suggest the stone point again.

“Has he said what he will do?” asked White Buffalo.

“No,” Coyote answered, “but what can he do? He cannot travel without a weapon, so he must stay another winter with us.”

BOOK: The Changing Wind
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