The Elk-Dog Heritage (6 page)

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Authors: Don Coldsmith

BOOK: The Elk-Dog Heritage
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The Bloods were
disgruntled at their treatment in the Big Council. The People continued to ignore them, and the young dissidents reacted by being more active, loud, and obnoxious.
Badger presented himself at the Sun Dance lodge on the first day of the dance, in his symbolic red paint, accompanied by his followers. For a moment it appeared that the keeper of the Sun Dance would prevent their entering. Still, one's participation in the Sun Dance was a very private and personal thing. Each performed according to the dictates of his own conscience. There were some who even danced backward, or wore some strange article of decoration, perhaps to fulfill a secret vow.
In the end, the sentry decided that there was nothing so unusual in the Bloods' facial paint. They were allowed to enter and participate in the dance.
It seemed, however, as the days passed, that Badger became more irritable. Apparently, his militant challenge to tribal authority could stand almost anything but the good-natured tolerance of the tribe. This had always been the way of the People. If one does no harm to the group, let him do as he wishes.
So, through the entire Sun Dance, the Bloods seemed angry and frustrated that they could get no reaction of any sort from the People. They paraded pompously around the camp, noisy and insolent, attempting to create an incident, but were completely ignored.
Perhaps this was why, on the morning after the last all-night
session of the dance, Badger was looking for trouble. Irritably, he presented himself at White Buffalo's lodge.
“Uncle!” he called out. There was no trace of respect in his voice. “We wish a vision for the hunt.”
The old man was tired. The rigors of the Sun Dance were a trying time, even for younger men. Sleepily, he rolled out of his robes, but not before Badger was calling out again and slapping the skin cover of the lodge. The medicine man held the doorflap aside and Badger stooped to enter.
“We would hunt buffalo,” he demanded. “Give us a vision!”
It was a command rather than a request.
“My son, the tribe will be moving. Today is no time to start a hunt.”
Badger's eyes burned into the old man's face, cruel and relentless. For the first time in many years, White Buffalo was physically afraid. And of one of his own band, he thought sadly.
Reluctantly, he turned and prepared to perform the dance. Crow Woman readied the drum and the medicine man donned his buffalo robe. Not the sacred white cape, but an ordinary robe was used for this ceremony. The muffled rhythm of the drum set the cadence, and the medicine man began his shuffling, stamping dance. He pawed the ground like a massive herd bull, and swung his head and shoulders in imitation of the great beasts.
White Buffalo was just warming to the challenge of the dance when his visitor rudely interrupted.
“Enough, old man!” Badger injected. “Throw the stones!”
Crow Woman, astonished at the effrontery of the youth, stopped the drumbeat and sat, openmouthed. No one had ever dared interrupt a ceremonial dance. The medicine man straightened slowly and stared hard at Badger.
“No good will come of this.”
“Throw the stones!” It was now a command, and the old man
moved to comply, not quite understanding why he did so.
The medicine man turned and unrolled a bundled skin to spread before them. Its smooth painted surface bore geometric designs which shone dully in the dim light of the lodge. He produced a pouch, heavily embroidered with quillwork, and shook the contents into his gnarled palm.
With a dramatic gesture, he rolled the handful of small objects onto the surface of the spread skin. They scattered and bounced, settling to rest as he squatted to interpret the cast. Painted plum stones, small bits of bone, wood, and brightly colored pebbles settled in a pattern on the skin. White Buffalo studied the objects, muttering to himself, and occasionally poked at a stone with a knobby forefinger. Finally he looked up, directly at the waiting Badger.
“My son, it is not good. I do not fully understand the cast, but danger and death are here!”
“You lie, old man! Throw again!”
White Buffalo shook his head.
“I can make but one cast. Then the medicine is gone.” An idea suddenly occurred to him. “But, I can cast the black stones.”
Seldom used, the black stones were reserved for special purposes. Five in number, they had been handed down through successions of medicine men of the People. No one, except the medicine man himself, had ever been allowed to examine the black stones closely, and for very good reason.
The black stones were completely predictable in their forecast. Five plum stones had been painted black on one side, in a manner similar to the ordinary half-red gambling stones in common use. Their difference, aside from color, was subtle. The plum stones had been selected long ago, and painted by a skilled medicine man in the distant past. White Buffalo had once examined them closely, and determined their secret.
The selected plum stones were slightly flattened on one side, a freak of growth not obvious to casual observation in the dim light of a medicine man's lodge. The observer would be intent on looking for color, not shape. Would there be more stones showing the black-painted, or the natural yellow side when the cast was made? The medicine man already knew that the black sides would predominate. He could use the black stones to enforce any advice or vision he might wish. They were seldom used, and then very cautiously, but White Buffalo felt that this was the time.
The clutter of objects on the medicine skin was gathered and returned to the pouch. Crow Woman ceremonially smoothed the skin for the coming ritual. White Buffalo turned, rummaged in his equipment, and produced a tiny pouch lavishly decorated with quills and paint. He handled it reverently, carefully. He must be cautious, for Badger was clever and observant.
With slow and symbolic motions, he opened the sack and shook out the five small plum stones. He drew forth their cup, made from the tip of a buffalo horn, and placed the stones carefully in it. The polished horn gleamed black as he held it aloft and chanted the ritual phrases. Then, with a dramatic gesture, he swept his arm downward and over the skin, tumbling the stones across its surface.
Badger watched, fascinated, as the black stones skittered and bounced, finally coming to rest. Four of the five showed the black surface, the other the natural yellow color.
“
Aiee
, it is bad, as I have said,” intoned the pleased medicine man.
“It is a trick!” Badger almost shouted. He reached quickly forward and scooped the scattered stones in his hand.
White Buffalo, taken completely by surprise, could only sit numbly at the unexpected turn of events. The young man was
shaking the black stones between his palms. How had he solved the secret so quickly?
Badger cast the stones back onto the skin, and watched, fascinated, as they skittered, rolled, and came to rest. He stared at the result. This time all five showed the black surface. Anger began to mount in the young man's face. In that moment, White Buffalo realized the truth. Badger had not solved the secret. He was only angry that the medicine of the stones had gone against him.
With a swing of his arm, the insolent young man swept the stones from the medicine skin. They bounced and jumped around the lodge, one falling almost into the fire. In the moment of silence, one stone struck the tightly drawn skin of the lodge cover beside Crow Woman with a soft thunk. She absently picked it up and stared at it.
“It is a trick of some sort! We go anyway!” Badger jumped to his feet and strode from the lodge.
Crow Woman and
White Buffalo looked at each other in stunned silence for a few heartbeats. Then the old woman began to move around, clucking her tongue disapprovingly as she retrieved the black plum stones. The last one was elusive, but she finally found it, in the ashes near the fire.
White Buffalo examined the objects briefly, and returned them to their pouch with the horn cup. He was disturbed. Obviously, the Blood Society intended to go on their hunt, regardless of the medicine man's approval. It was a very awkward situation. The Elk-dog band should be preparing for departure. Instead, they must either wait for the Bloods to return, or, if need be, leave without them. Neither course was a good one. Once again, the youngsters had caused embarrassment to their band and their families.
White Buffalo hurried over to the chiefs lodge, intending to inform him of the developments. He found Heads Off standing outside, watching the activity. Badger was riding among the lodges, calling to his followers and announcing the hunt.
“I gave them bad omens, Heads Off. They go anyway.”
Coyote joined them and the three watched the rising excitement of the young men as the group of mounted hunters grew.
Coyote spoke. “We will leave tomorrow even if they have not returned?”
Heads Off did not answer. He was still pondering that question in his own mind. Also, the old apprehension was growing as
he watched the Bloods wheeling their horses and shouting to each other. This did not look like the start of a hunting trip. They should be calm and businesslike. Instead, they were working each other into a frenzy of excitement. There appeared to be no doubt about it. This was no hunting trip. This was a war party!
Their numbers grew as they organized, and even from a distance the three could see that the Bloods were being joined by young men from other bands.
Aiee
, it appeared that there were now more mounted warriors than one has fingers and toes.
A man on foot strode among the lodges and approached the horsemen. Heads Off recognized Sees Far, and in a moment saw the object of that warrior's attention. The man angrily approached a rider that they now recognized as his errant son, and an argument ensued.
It was too far away to hear the words of the argument, but the situation was plain. Sees Far was forbidding his son to go with the Bloods, and the boy was insisting on his right to do so. The argument was still at an impasse when Badger arrogantly rode up and entered the conversation. Sees Far turned angrily to the young man, and voices rose in argument.
Heads Off realized the danger and sprinted forward. The adversaries were well over a hundred paces away, and before he had covered half the distance, the inevitable had happened. Sees Far, with a shout of anger, rushed at Badger's horse. The animal shied away, and the young man swung a weapon, which fortunately missed its target. Sees Far snatched at the reins, and pulled the animal's head around as Badger struck at him a second time.
The older warrior dodged the blow, but grasped the wrist of his assailant, shaking the club loose from his grip. Sees Far was not a big man, but seemed suddenly to acquire superior strength as he gave a mighty heave and pulled Badger bodily from his horse. The young man landed heavily, but sprang up immediately
and grappled with Sees Far, the two falling again to the ground. Struggling and kicking, the pair rolled almost under the trampling feet of the frightened horse.
Heads Off, nearly winded from his run, was approaching as a cluster of people crowded forward to see the struggle. The rolling pair was obscured from his view for a moment, and he elbowed forward, pushing the horse aside.
Badger was just rising, breathing heavily.
“He would have killed me!” The voice was almost pleading.
Heads Off looked at the still figure, face down in the dust. He knelt, and gently rolled Sees Far toward him. A trickle of blood from a gash in the upper belly puddled in the dust. The far-seeing eyes which had earned this warrior the respect of the tribe now gazed sightlessly at the sun.
An angry mutter arose from the gathering crowd. Badger looked from one face to another, desperately seeking support, but meeting only enmity.
“I had no choice! He attacked me!”
“Sees Far was not armed,” a woman stated quietly, and the angry mutter spread.
Coyote came puffing to the scene, squatting beside Heads Off to talk rapidly.
“Heads Off, it is a matter for the Big Council. I have sent for the Real-chief.”
The People were still numb with the shock of the thing. It was the worst of all taboos, that one of the People should kill another. Though violence and death were commonplace, there was this most absolute of laws. One does not kill a member of the tribe.
Badger was still looking helplessly around the circle for nonexistent encouragement when the Real-chief arrived, flanked by two sub-chiefs of the Northern band. The crowd separated to
allow them to approach. The keen old eyes of Many Robes took in the situation at a glance. The wife of Sees Far was now at his side, sobbing quietly. Her son, the cause of the episode, stood staring in shocked silence.
“You, boy,” the Real-chief addressed him crisply. “You have much to answer for. You must be a great help to your mother now.”
Many Robes turned to the hapless Badger. That young man started to speak, then thought better of it and stood silent under the scathing gaze of the Real-chief.
“You will go to your lodge and stay there until the Big Council meets at dark. The men will come for you.”
He turned and spoke more quietly to Heads Off.
“Your warriors will bring him to the Council?”
Heads Off nodded. He was heartsick that his, the Elk-dog band, should be the origin of such disgrace among his adopted people.
The Real-chief turned and the crowd parted again for him. They began to disperse, animated conversations beginning in small groups.
“Heads Off, there is much to do.” It was Coyote, at his elbow, bringing him back to reality.
White Buffalo had arrived, and now attempted to explain the necessary steps. The keening wail of the Mourning Song rose from the family of Sees Far as the medicine man rapidly explained to his young chief.
“It is very bad medicine, Heads Off, for this to happen at the Sun Dance. It may destroy all the good medicine for the season. We must quickly remove the dead man, so the evil deed will not taint the Sun Dance place.”
Heads Off nodded. The body would be ceremonially buried
on an elevated scaffold in the trees, but in an area removed from the Sun Dance lodge.
After the remains were wrapped in robes and carried downstream nearly half a sun's journey, the spot where the tragedy had taken place was ceremonially cleansed by White Buffalo. Most of the Elk-dog band accompanied the family to the site of the burial scaffold. Sees Far had been a respected warrior.
By the time the band had carried out the required rituals and returned to the Sun Dance site, it was growing late. Sun Boy and his torch were slipping below earth's rim. It was time for the convening of the Big Council.

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