Comanche Dawn (10 page)

“Now, sit,” the old man said, once Shadow had entered the lodge, “and I will tell you things you need to know.”

Shadow sat rigidly on a buffalo robe.

“Get comfortable. You are going to be here a long time, listening to me.”

Shadow shifted and sat as naturally as his sore chest and leg would allow.

“I have heard many stories about you, young horseback. They say First Horse circled your lodge as you were born. They say you will have strong medicine because of this.”

The old man paused, either to chuckle or to wheeze—Shadow could not tell which.

“What the spirits caused to happen in days behind us means nothing. The spirits sometimes change their mind.” The old man sighed, threw a pinch of some kind of powder into the fire. “They are like the clouds that promise rain and bring only hail. I have spent all of my life looking for signs and talking to spirits, and still I cannot make sense of everything they bring about. So, do not think you are favored because a stray horse circled your lodge as you were born, or you will offend the spirits on your vision quest.”

“I do not think I am favored, Grandfather. I only want to make my people proud.”

Spirit Talker grunted. “You speak well. Now, listen well. I will tell you about my vision quest when I was a know-nothing boy like you.”

Spirit Talker started in on the walking, fasting, and thirsting of the quest. He spoke of the standing, the smoking, the praying. He went on so long that Shadow thought he must be telling it at about the same pace it happened. The old man related all this sitting upright on his couch of robes, his eyes closed and his face turned up.

Then the old man began to tell of the vision he had received so long ago. It fascinated Shadow at first, but it went on too long, and began to make no sense at all. Spirit Talker spoke of birds that turned into arrows and flew far away to kill, of ancient owls that caught and ate the flesh of still-living men, of antelope that ran upside-down on the bottoms of clouds, of great lodges in the sky, of trees that sprouted and bloomed and made fruit and died in the blink of an eye, of bears who spoke the tongue of wolves who spoke the tongue of snakes who spoke the tongue of True Humans. There were councils underground where buffalo and deer and great humpbacked bears met with the grandfathers' grandfathers of the True Humans. There were worlds in the clouds, across the waters, beyond the stars. It was so confusing that after a great while, Shadow's thoughts slipped back to Slope Child in his lodge last night to Teal in his dreams of greatness to come. He began to ignore completely the old man and listen to what was going on outside the little painted lodge.

He heard the hooves of horses trotting. He heard small children laughing as they played games. He heard a woman breaking sticks with a stone axe. Once, he heard a hawk call from high up in the sky, and glancing through the smoke hole, happened to see the hawk pass. He could not believe that anybody could go on as long as Spirit Talker without moving anything but his mouth.

“… and when I looked again,” the old man was saying, “the coyotes had turned into spirits in the shape of…”

The voice fell silent, and Shadow looked quickly at the old man's face, thinking maybe the
puhakut
had caught him watching for people through the open lodge entrance. But he soon realized that the old man had fallen asleep, for his mouth was open and his breathing was coming in long, slow rasps. He did not know what to do, so he lay down and went to sleep himself, until the old man's voice woke him.

“… in the shape of jackrabbits, yet I could tell from their smiles that they were still coyotes. Then, the four bull elk in the north turned and ran away, making a cloud of red dust…”

Shadow sat up and listened again. As the old man went on, the sunlight moved across the floor of the painted lodge. Finally, Spirit Talker said, “then I found myself upon my robe, and I was very hungry and very thirsty, so I went back to my village to tell the old men what I had seen. They tried to tell me what it meant. But, they were wrong.” He threw the strange powder on the pile of ashes, where the fire had gone out. “Do you understand what I am saying, Shadow?”

The boy waited a long time before he answered, thinking. “No,” he finally said, though he feared the old man might start over. “But I wish to understand.”

Spirit Talker opened his mouth wide, his laughter sounding like the roar of a fox. “The more we wish to understand, the more we learn. The more we learn, the less we understand.”

There was silence in the lodge that lasted as long as a beaver could stay underwater. Then, Shadow asked a bold question:

“Grandfather, what manner of dust did you throw onto the fire?”

Spirit Talker put his fingertips in the pouch that held the powder. “Do you ask this question to make me think you want to understand things, or do you truly want to know what kind of dust it is?”

Shadow considered this question some time, thinking about how he would speak his reply. “I truly wish to know what kind of dust it was, because it smelled strange to me when it burned. I did not ask the question only to make you think I wish to understand things, but I do wish to understand, and that is why I asked the question.”

“What do you wish most to understand?”

Again, he thought some time before he replied. “I wish to understand why the spirits give us things. And why they take things away.”

For the first time, the old man's eyes appeared, twinkling in deep folds of aged, sun-baked flesh. “The dust is only a powder made of elk horn. The spirits do not wish me to say why I throw it on the fire. My medicine is very strong, young horseback. Its mysteries are my own to guard—a burden I must bear alone. To know of such power, such magic as you cannot imagine, is a very dangerous thing. It is like the horses you were riding yesterday.”

“The horses, Grandfather?”

“Do you feel their power when you ride them?”

“As you must also, Grandfather.”

“You forget, young horseback. You have known horses all your life. I am an old man upon this earth and will never ride a horse the way I saw you ride yesterday. The horse is a strange new thing to me. That is why I must ask you. I wish to learn. To understand.”

Shadow gathered his legs under him, feeling very excited that the old
puhakut
should ask such a thing of him. “The power is great, Grandfather. It makes me go as fast as when I jump from the bluff into the swimming place at the Timber Camp, but the ride on the horse goes longer than the jump into the water. And it is more than the speed. It is the power!”

“Explain this power,” the old man said, looking sincerely at the boy. “How does it make you feel?”

Shadow gestured vaguely. “It is like holding to the back of a great eagle as it flies low over the ground. Like riding a bull elk. It is like mastering all the wild things in the world and feeling all their great muscles between my thighs.”

“Yet, these wild things you master throw you through the air and step hard upon you. They come near to crushing you, so that you might die upon the ground, without even a weapon in your hand.”

“I am not afraid of them.”

“But it is dangerous.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

The old man threw the dust of elk horn upon the cold ashes. “So it is with spirit medicine. It makes you feel powerful. Yet, it may rub you out if you are not careful.”

Shadow heard horses running, and looked through the opening to see them cavorting across a slope. “Why have the spirits given us horses, Grandfather?”

“I cannot say, young horseback. If the spirits wish you to know the answer to that question, they will tell you. You say you wish to understand, Shadow, but you must not wish to understand too much. Let the spirits understand. They are wiser than we are. They will tell you what to do if you listen. Now, go and eat well. Drink your fill of milk and water. When the sun rises, I will wait for you at the deep pool along Sometimes Water.”

10

At dawn, Shadow trotted
in his moccasins and loin skins to the pool on Sometimes Water, carrying his favorite buffalo robe rolled, tied, and slung over his shoulder by a rawhide thong. Father Sun was yet behind the eastern skyline, but his first rays made the tall, slender
tecamaca
trees along the stream look like huge green feathers whose tips had been dipped in crimson paint.

Following the line of trodden earth to the pool, the medicine seeker found Spirit Talker standing there, waiting for him.

“You must wash everything away in these waters that the spirits have made sacred on this morning,” the old
puhakut
said.

Shadow took off his moccasins and loin skins and waded quickly into the clear, cold pool, diving headlong when he had waded thigh-deep. It felt cold, but not as cold as the streams from which he had broken ice to prove to his friends he could stay in longer than they. Coming up from the bottom of the pool, he heard Spirit Talker chanting, so he stayed in the deep middle of the pool, moving his arms and legs to stay afloat, knowing this exercise would warm him.

When the fiery gaze of Father Sun struck Spirit Walker, the
puhakut
ceased his chant and opened his eyes. “Come out. You are clean.”

Shadow stood in the sun, his flesh tightening all around him, feeling cleansed, indeed, very strong, very well.

“Offer your heart to the spirits,” the old man said. “
Stand
before them. Do not grovel, for that disgusts them. Tell the spirits you are getting ready to travel to a sacred place. Ask them to meet you there and grant you medicine. Do not be afraid. Fear angers the spirits the way it angers a great humpbacked bear.”

“I am not afraid,” Shadow said. He closed his eyes and prayed silently with the old man, feeling the crisp air dry him as the sun made him warmer.

“You are ready,” Spirit Talker said.

He opened his eyes, finding the old man standing before him, still wrapped in his robe. It seemed strange to see Spirit Talker bundled up so, for Shadow was naked and felt quite warm. He was indeed ready. He had long awaited this quest. He hoped it would be as hard and as powerful as he had imagined. As he hurriedly put his moccasins and loin skins back on, he hoped the spirits would see how sincere he was and grant him good medicine.

Now Spirit Talker revealed an elk-horn pipe he had kept concealed under his buffalo robe and handed it to Shadow along with a pouch of tobacco and a wood drill for making fire. “You will need these things. Roll them in your robe for your journey.”

Shadow rolled the things and tied the robe with the rawhide strap. Looping this strap over his shoulder, he stood to receive his last instructions from the
puhakut.

“The spirits will come to you on the high bluff above the spring that feeds Sometimes Water. Go there, now, young horseback, and seek your medicine.” He turned away, leaving Shadow alone.

*   *   *

The medicine seeker walked until the sun was upon his shoulders, then stopped beside Sometimes Water to light his pipe. He was good with the drill, and there was much dry grass at hand to start the small fire. Stuffing the pipe with tobacco and lighting it with a burning stick, Shadow sat upon his rolled robe and prayed as he smoked.

He held his chin high as he sought contact with the spirits. Whom these spirits were, exactly, Shadow could not say. He knew of Father Sun and Mother Earth. He knew of their daughter, Sister Moon. He knew of the Thunderbird who brought rain and played the deadly lightning game with the True Humans. But there were other spirits out there as well, each waiting to share medicine with the walkers of earth. This Shadow knew. He prayed to them all at once, wondering which would accept his invitation to serve as his personal guardian spirit and shape his life with magic.

With the pipe smoked, he rose and continued the long walk to the bluff at the head of Sometimes Water. He stopped to smoke again at the spring. The water roared from the base of the bluff as Shadow had never seen. The Burnt Meat People had camped along Sometimes Water several times in his memory, but never when the water was so strong. This gave him confidence. The magic here was good. Grass stood high. Leaves were green and fruit grew everywhere. He was forbidden to eat or drink for the next four days, but the abundance made him hopeful that his father, Shaggy Hump, and his teacher, Spirit Talker, had chosen well his time and place to seek his medicine.

Halfway up the bluff, Shadow stopped to take his third smoke. He could see the haze of many campfires above his camp from here, for he was climbing high, and the day was still. The lodges were hidden in distant timber, but the thin cloud of smoke made him feel near his people. The sun was over him now, the rolling plains below him pale gray and brown in the bright light.

The climb to the top of the bluff became more difficult as the slope steepened. Shadow embraced the challenge, seeking the handholds and footholds that would lift him ever nearer his place of sacred solitude. Near the top, he found a ledge upon which to take his fourth smoke. He felt eager as he spun the drill shaft within its spirals of cured hide, for the number four was sacred. The spirits had created many four-leggeds to serve the True Humans. Four directions joined across the face of Mother Earth. Four seasons made the great circle of time. Shadow faced four most sacred days to invoke something mystic from the spirit world.

The fourth smoke seemed to give him wind to finish the climb. He scrambled over the last brink as if running a foot race, then sprinted up a gentle slope to the highest point on the bluff. Dropping his rolled robe, he turned slowly, letting his eyes sweep across the vast range.

To the east, where the bluff faced, the land rolled away in gentle folds, covered with sage and bunches of grass, dotted with dark green cedar. Between the east and the south, as he turned, his eye followed Sometimes Water, snaking away in a crooked thread of green, vanishing beyond the smoke haze of the village. Due south, the young medicine seeker noticed a thin haze of another hue hugging the horizon, wavering with distant magic. He hoped it might mean a dust cloud from a herd of buffalo. He turned farther still, now shading his brow against the late-day sun. The land rose in rugged steps to the west, broken by many dry ravines and jagged escarpments. Beyond this harsh country were the enemy highlands, the crests of which were visible though they lay several sleeps from here, even by horse. Turning north, Shadow saw the mystic regions of many strange peoples, the Mountains of Bighorn Sheep, and the Cold Dry Hills.