Buffalo Medicine (4 page)
Authors: Don Coldsmith
The girl was
tall, as were many of the women of the People. Owl's own mother was called the Tall One. This young woman, while not quite possessing the height of Tall One, was nearly as tall as Owl. She appeared to be about his own age. Her legs were gracefully shaped, and the supple resiliency of her long body gave promise of easy birthing.
tall, as were many of the women of the People. Owl's own mother was called the Tall One. This young woman, while not quite possessing the height of Tall One, was nearly as tall as Owl. She appeared to be about his own age. Her legs were gracefully shaped, and the supple resiliency of her long body gave promise of easy birthing.
Owl could not remember ever seeing a woman whom he found so physically attractive. Her large eyes reminded him of the gentle eyes of a deer. These reflected sadness and hard times, but there was a flash of spirit. The look of eagles, White Buffalo would have called it. In addition, the eyes could reflect a sparkle of joy and humor over the smallest thing. And, Owl reflected glumly, she had very few things, even small things, to cause her to show sparkle.
She continued to be an inspiration to him. Her appearance was always as carefully managed as if she were
among her own people, taking a prominent place in the affairs of her tribe.
among her own people, taking a prominent place in the affairs of her tribe.
Her hair, he now noticed, was plaited in the style of the People. This she seemed to do as a defiant challenge to her captor, realizing that it might irritate the man. At any rate, it was a public proclamation that she was proud of her heritage. Prisoner though she might be, at least for the moment, she was, above all, a woman of the People.
The young people found occasion to be near each other whenever they could. Owl would try to casually encounter the girl while out gathering dung or firewood, or in the event of a buffalo kill, to work in close proximity to her. Willow cooperated in these efforts, but frequently warned him to be careful. They must not arouse suspicion. They intently practiced looking glum and dejected. It was extremely difficult to appear morose, however, when an occasion offered for them to be together.
This became one of the strangest of all courtships. Both parties in servitude, and Willow ostensibly the wife of another man. They could hardly look or smile at each other, which became very frustrating Touching, of course, was next to impossible.
They did manage, once, to clasp hands for the space of a few heartbeats. Bull's Tail and Many Wives had shared a kill, a fat buffalo cow. Several of the women of both lodges were busily butchering out the animal, each trying to maintain claim to the choicest cuts and most desirable organs.
Soon the two captives found themselves working side by side, up to the elbows in entrails in the body cavity. Owl grasped the girl's hand, deeply out of sight, and she returned the quick squeeze.
The jealous Many Wives, however, riding past at the moment, struck Willow across the back with his quirt. He scolded her for malingering, then sent her back to the lodge with a load of meat. He turned to Owl in a quiet rage.
“And you, son of a snake, will be killed very slowly if you do not stay away from my wives!”
Owl dropped his eyes submissively and continued his work. It had been a foolhardy thing to do, and now they had aroused suspicion. They would now have to be more cautious than ever. He silently cursed himself for a fool, at the same time smarting under the blow that the girl had received.
If the truth were known, Many Wives had seen nothing at all. Only his resentment against anyone who appeared happy at his work had brought forth the surly reaction. Nevertheless, the incident further fanned the smoldering enmity between the two. Many Wives would cheerfully have killed or maimed the prisoner at any opportunity.
Owl, for his part, could hardly stand the thoughts of the ugly, sadistic Head Splitter taking Willow to his sleeping robes as a wife. He could think of innumerable variations of torture for the man. Owl realized that this was inconsistent with his general attitude toward the practice of torture, but this was a special case. Many Wives, he felt, had forfeited any right to consideration. He devoutly hoped that when the time came for their escape, he would somehow be able to kill the surly Many Wives. This became almost an obsession with Owl during the course of the winter. Only in this way, he felt, could he avenge the mistreatment of the captive girl. Owl had already begun to think of Willow as his own.
The Head Splitters established winter quarters, and life became a little easier for Owl. There was not quite so much menial work, since hunting had slowed considerably. He was still expected to carry firewood and water.
On very cold nights Owl was permitted to crouch just inside the skin doorway of the lodge. Grudgingly, of course. The first time he tried it he was whacked and
berated, and was expecting to be turned back out into the sleeting rain. Just as he began to despair the possibility of surviving without shelter, Bull's Tail intervened.
berated, and was expecting to be turned back out into the sleeting rain. Just as he began to despair the possibility of surviving without shelter, Bull's Tail intervened.
“Let him stay,” he ordered casually, without looking up from the bone he was gnawing.
Owl was careful not to tempt his good fortune too far. On any night when it was at all possible, he was outside with the dogs. Without thinking the matter out completely, he still had escape in the back of his mind. That escape would be easier if he were not encumbered with such things as tie thongs on the lodge doorway in case of a hasty exit.
One shocking incident occurred during the Moon of Long Nights. A group of young men, hunting in the area near the winter camp, had discovered a cave. In the course of the exploration, they had roused a hibernating she-bear and her two cubs. In the melee, one of the hunters had been horribly mauled, and they had killed the bear and one cub. The other cub had escaped.
The hunting party returned in triumph, and to Owl's horror, a feast of bear meat was planned. Among the People, the bear was a forbidden animal. After all, did not bears walk upright like a man? To kill a bear, except in self-defense, was very bad medicine. To actually eat the flesh was, in the mind of the young man, the equivalent of cannibalism.
Equally revolting was the spectacle of one of the hunters, he who claimed the kill. The man walked around the camp, flauntingly wearing the skin of the cub around his shoulders as a cape.
Owl was completely repulsed by this defiance of decency. Nothing in his captivity had he found so distasteful, except, of course, the abuse of the girl.
He watched from a distance the celebration and the dance reenacting the kill. He was sick, spiritually and
physically. His strict training in the ways of the medicine man made the situation even worse for him. The deliberate infraction of a medicine taboo was beyond his understanding.
physically. His strict training in the ways of the medicine man made the situation even worse for him. The deliberate infraction of a medicine taboo was beyond his understanding.
Willow, watching the dejected Owl, was sympathetic, but not touched so deeply. She observed the custom of the People by refusing participation in the feast. However, she was able to be more objective about the situation. Medicine taboos, she realized, were different for different tribesâfor different individuals, even. She remembered a man of her own tribe whose taboo had been antelope. From some vision or vow of long ago, he avoided the flesh of the animal entirely. He had been called “Eats-no-Antelope” behind his back by the children, she recalled whimsically. At any rate, Willow decided, the medicine taboo of others is their own concern. She could be much more tolerant than the strictly disciplined Owl.
Despite such cultural clashes, the seasons moved on. The Moon of Snows was considerably milder than the People were accustomed to further to the north. There were only a few days when the snow lay on the earth. Likewise, the Moon of Hunger brought no major hardships. A few families fell back on the eating of dogs, the ever-present provision. Basically, however, enough meat and pemmican had been prepared and stored to supply the winter. Those who ate dogs did so by choice, or to enjoy a meal of fresh meat for variation in the diet.
When the warm south breezes of the Wakening Moon began to bring the smell of moist earth, Owl became impatient. He thought that the decision to move north, back to more familiar territory, would never come. But at last, late in the Greening Moon, the Head Splitters began to prepare for the move.
Owl was elated. He already felt that he was starting home. The details of planning an escape were secondary, compared to the fact that they were now headed for
familiar territory. He wondered if White Buffalo had fired the grass yet. It was hard to tell. The plants in this arid region were so different. The young medicine man needed the familiar grasses of the prairie to make his estimate.
familiar territory. He wondered if White Buffalo had fired the grass yet. It was hard to tell. The plants in this arid region were so different. The young medicine man needed the familiar grasses of the prairie to make his estimate.
After the travelers reached the grasslands, there was one frustrating incident. The band was spread in a straggling column across the prairie when suddenly an excited murmur rippled down the line. Owl caught the word which he had learned the Head Splitters used for the People. His father's own band, perhaps? If there were fighting, there was the possibility of escape. He looked around for Willow, but did not see her.
The band moved quickly into a compact group, children in the center, then the women, with warriors around the outside. Owl, with a few others who were captives of a sort, and potential troublemakers, were herded near the center of the circle. He felt a sharp prick on the side of his neck and glanced around. The old woman, the mother of Bull's Tail, he now knew, showed him the point of her skinning knife.
“You will be silent,” she signed. “If there is fighting, you are the first to die!”
“Of course, Mother,” answered Owl, also in the sign language.
He knew fighting was unlikely. Both groups would have their women and children; and would avoid conflict. He had seen such chance meetings almost annually, and had watched, fascinated, from the center of the circle. Now he did so again, peering around and between the horses carrying baggage or pulling pole-drags.
A column of travelers began to file over the hill, heading in a generally northerly direction, but at a slightly different tangent from that of the Head Splitters. Three men moved their horses out from the Head Splitters' band, and riders from the approaching group slowly moved out to meet them.
Owl recognized old White Bear, chief of the People's Red Rocks band. The Red Rocks had frequent contact with the Head Splitters because of geographic location. The chiefs of the rival tribes pulled their horses to a stop and sat calmly in discussion. Owl could see the sign language fairly well. They would, he knew, comment on the weather, the availability of game, and the general condition of the grassland. There would be a few derogatory taunts by both sides, but no open conflict. He wondered if the Head Splitters would use the obvious taunt: the capture of the son of a chief of the People. He could see no such sign, and decided that he had not been mentioned. After all, this was not his father's band.
The two enemy columns cautiously circled and parted. Owl watched the People file over the hill with a deep longing. If only he and Willow could escape within the next few suns, they should have little trouble finding protection with the Red Rocks. Even though neither of them belonged to this most southwestern band of the People, they were, after all, the People. Owl had many acquaintances in the Red Rocks band. He knew that they would be welcome in the lodge of White Bear, who was his father's friend of long standing.
Yes, he mused, as the column started off again and he shouldered his packs. The time for escape must be soon.
Despite the feeling
of urgency, the escape opportunity did not present itself immediately. The captives were closely watched. Owl finally realized that the possibility of protection by the Red Rocks band would be as obvious to their captors as to himself. He irritably resumed the routine chores required of him.
of urgency, the escape opportunity did not present itself immediately. The captives were closely watched. Owl finally realized that the possibility of protection by the Red Rocks band would be as obvious to their captors as to himself. He irritably resumed the routine chores required of him.
The Head Splitters established a summer encampment, and the easy-living activities of the Growing Moon and the Moon of Roses moved along. Hunting was good, and the prisoners were kept busy with the associated drudgery.
It was not until the Moon of Thunder that the escape came. The night was warm and the air fragrant. Owl was tired, and had rolled into his robe outside the lodge of Bull's Tail without a thought of anything but rest.
Just past the setting of the partial moon, when the time of darkness was at its blackest, a soft voice whispered in his ear.
“Come quickly, man of the People! Here, carry this.” He took the bundle, tossed his robe over his shoulder, and sleepily stumbled after the graceful shape ahead of him in the night.
They threaded their way among the lodges, once pausing to threaten a restless dog. Soon they were on the open prairie, circling cautiously to avoid the guards at the horse herd. At last they stopped, breathless, and Willow swept into his arms in a warm embrace. Owl would have prolonged the moment, but she gently disengaged herself.
“Come,” she murmured, “we will stop later.”
They moved rapidly in a northerly direction, guiding on the real-star. For the first time, they were able to converse freely, a luxury beyond belief. They chattered happily as they traveled.
She had, Willow told him, been secretly building a supply of food to be used in the escape. That was the bundle Owl was now carrying. She had waited until the proper time, when Many Wives was exhausted from amorous activity, and the night was pleasant enough for Owl to be sleeping outside.
The constellation of the Seven Hunters had moved for some distance around the real-star when the girl stopped suddenly. They were in a small starlit meadow, the musical sound of a cold spring tinkling from the slope above. She moved to a level spot near the stream, and spread her robe on the soft grass.
“Here,” she announced, “we will spend our first night together.”
The young people were faced with a certain conflict. Both had grown up in the strict moral and ethical ways of the People, regarding marriage customs. Yet both realized the urgency of the situation. They must take whatever opportunity offered to cling together. By morning, they might both be dead.
They solved this minor dilemma simply and beautifully,
by enacting the ritual of the People. Taking the corners of Owl's ragged robe, they drew it around their shoulders, enveloping both in a single cloak, to signify the marriage bond.
by enacting the ritual of the People. Taking the corners of Owl's ragged robe, they drew it around their shoulders, enveloping both in a single cloak, to signify the marriage bond.
Owl's amateurish ineptness was offset by his gentle and considerate nature. As for Willow, her experience, although more extensive, had been totally without affection. Never was a marriage contract consummated with more sincerity and devotion.
Some time later, in the dark before the dawn, she whispered in his ear.
“Wake, my husband, we must travel.”
Sluggishly and regretfully, the two prepared for departure. A last look around the little meadow where their life together had begun, and they started northward. They struck a good pace, chewing strips of the dried meat Willow had brought as provisions. By dawn they had greatly increased the distance from the enemy camp.
But not enough, Owl was afraid. Looking ahead, he could see several days' travel over the rolling plain. There was very little opportunity for hiding, as there would have been in more broken country among the rocky hillsides. Their captors were sure to follow, probably on horseback. They had made a major error in judgment in not stealing horses for the escape.
Owl was certain that the girl realized their situation too, but neither voiced doubts. They traveled as rapidly as was practical, trying to ignore the fact that behind them somewhere was a pursuing party of angry Head Splitters.
Owl first saw them from the top of a low ridge. There were six riders, intent on the trail of the refugees. They were closer than he had hoped, and would probably overtake the couple before Sun Boy's torch stood overhead.
He looked ahead over the plain. There could hardly have been a worse area for hiding. In many places, gullies and small canyons would have furnished at least some
help, but here there was nothing. A small stream wandered across the flat, and he motioned in that direction.
help, but here there was nothing. A small stream wandered across the flat, and he motioned in that direction.
Their pace necessarily slowed as they attempted to conceal the back trail by stepping on rocks in the stream bed. Owl, with a sinking feeling, realized that this ruse, the only one available, would be obvious to the pursuers.
Then, like a gift in time of need, he saw a possible hiding place. A few hundred paces away, in the open grassland, lay the rotting carcass of a buffalo. An old bull, by the size of it. Probably one of the aging outcasts that followed the herds, gradually becoming weaker with advancing infirmities until pulled down by wolves. The fugitives turned aside, attempting to leave as little sign of their passing as possible.
Hurriedly, they approached the remains. As Owl had hoped, the dry air of the high plains had preserved the skin somewhat. Coyotes and vultures had stripped a good portion of the meat from the skeleton, but the massive rib cage was intact. The drying skin was pulled tightly across the bones like a lodge cover, and the huge body cavity was empty, cleaned out by the carrion eaters. He peered inside, making certain there was no real-snake or other creature of harm. Then the two squeezed through.
The quarters were cramped and smelly, but secure. The more exposed portion of their little retreat was camouflaged somewhat by stuffing Owl's ragged robe up against the inside of the opening. The fur blended well with that of the dead carcass, or at least Owl hoped so.
He peered through a jagged hole in the skin, and soon saw the horsemen, intently following the trail in the stream bed. They had not been deceived in the least. He identified Many Wives, and a couple of his friends. Bull's Tail was also present, and this proved encouraging to Owl. At least, he might be able to furnish them some protection from the excesses of the hot-tempered Many Wives.
As the search party came to a point opposite their hiding
place, one rider reined his horse around and cantered easily over to examine the dead buffalo. The fugitives crouched, hardly daring to breathe, as he circled the carcass. Finally, he thrust a spear into the body cavity, as if to satisfy his curiosity, and then, with scarcely a backward glance, turned and loped away.
place, one rider reined his horse around and cantered easily over to examine the dead buffalo. The fugitives crouched, hardly daring to breathe, as he circled the carcass. Finally, he thrust a spear into the body cavity, as if to satisfy his curiosity, and then, with scarcely a backward glance, turned and loped away.
Owl had felt the girl flinch against him when the spear thrust came. He looked questioningly, but she smiled at him.
“It is nothing, my husband.”
He saw a narrow trickle of blood down the shapely calf.
“It is only a scratch,” she reassured again.
The search party had now drawn away and were nearly beyond the shoulder of the next hill. Owl was pondering their next move. The cramped; odorous quarters were becoming unpleasant.
As soon as the Head Splitters were out of sight, they crawled from the hiding place and moved to the thin shelter of the willows along the stream. The girl limped only a little.
No sooner had they reached the dubious concealment, however, than voices were heard again. The warriors were returning. The man who had investigated the dead buffalo was leading the way, gesturing and pointing. They headed straight for the carcass. Owl caught the words “blood” and “spear,” and realized the unfortunate quirk of fate. The man had noticed fresh blood on the point of his spear, and realized that a dead and dried buffalo carcass does not bleed.
They circled the carcass, and one man, apparently a skilled tracker, discovered a drop of blood on the grass. He straightened, glanced around, and then pointed directly at their hiding place.
In a moment the two were surrounded, seized roughly, and thrown to the ground. Many Wives, livid with rage, stood over the helpless Owl, as others tied his hands.
“I will stop this offspring of a dog from stealing men's wives,” he shouted.
He grasped the thong holding Owl's breechclout and quickly severed it with his knife. His hand grasped at the young man as Owl struggled helplessly.
A blood-curdling scream from Willow caught the attention of Many Wives. He straightened to see the girl twist free from her captors and spring across the prairie. Two men leaped back on their horses in pursuit as the others watched, laughing.
In horror, Owl saw the horsemen approach the running girl. He realized that she had attempted to save him by drawing attention to herself. She dodged between the horses and they wheeled to catch her. One man swung his club and the girl was tossed into the grass like a broken doll. They turned and trotted back.
Owl did not care what happened now. He felt that his life had just ended. An argument developed between Many Wives, who insisted on revenge, and Bull's Tail, who claimed ownership of the prisoner. For a moment the two nearly came to blows, and then Many Wives petulantly struck out at the prisoner with the handle of his war club. It caught the helpless Owl along the temple, and merciful blackness descended.
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