Comanche Dawn (64 page)

Horseback sat for a long time, thinking about this. The paint dried on the end of his feather brush, and he had to wet it with his mouth. “Tell me how I have failed, my father. You are wise. I do not understand.”

Shaggy Hump smiled. “Sometimes it is easier to know how to hunt a herd of buffalo if you watch it for a while from a distant hill. When you get too close to the herd, you think too much of eating fresh brains and liver, and you cannot see how the herd moves. I have watched you from a distance, my son, and that is why I seem wise to you.”

Shaggy Hump paused, and appeared to be listening, or smelling the breeze.

“Six winters ago, my son, you had a great vision. Your spirit-protector revealed to you a nation in the mist. Since that time, you have sought to serve the spirits, and create this nation of horse people.”

“Yes,” Horseback said. “That is true. I am called to do this thing.”

“But do you seek this vision with your heart, or with your weapons?”

“I must use my weapons.”

“You must use your weapons as the spirits tell you to use them. Did the spirits tell you to seek battle with Wolf People because they stole three skinny ponies? We were lucky, and we got the ponies back, but your trouble with Whip deepened on that chase. Did the spirits tell you to follow Raccoon-Eyes? I know he is your friend, but he is not a True Human, and he does not understand our ways, or your vision. Did the spirits tell you to seek battle with the Osage, or to serve the gods of the yellow metal? Does the horse nation of your vision take up the lands the Osage now hold? Why did you follow Raccoon-Eyes there?”

“To get more ponies,” Horseback said, rather defensively.

“Did the spirits tell you to do this?”

Horseback thought about his father's question. He sat silent for a long time. He listened to the wind in the
sohoobi
trees. He heard the chatter of a kingfisher, and felt the power of the feather in his hand. He looked toward a bend in the creek and saw the kingfisher dive into the water after a fish.

“No, my father,” he finally said. “The spirits have not told me to get ponies. I wanted them for myself. I wanted my people to think of me as wealthy.”

“You have shadow-wealth, my son. You need not seek the wealth of earthly things. Trust the spirits to provide your ponies. It is not good to have too much of one thing. Do you remember the story of Rolling Rock?”

Horseback thought about the old days, listening to his grandfather tell stories in the winter lodges. “I do not remember it all, my father. Tell me again.”

“Well, it is not winter, but I will tell this story now anyway. I think you need to hear it, and perhaps I need to tell it.

“In the ancient times, all the animals were humans. Wolf and Coyote were brothers. Wolf had a beautiful earring made of a shell that made many colors in the sunlight. Coyote wanted an earring like his brother, so he asked Wolf where to get one.

“‘They are on the mountain,' Wolf said, ‘under that big rock. You will find many to choose from. You must take only one. Do not take more.'

“So Coyote went up on the mountain, and found the earrings under the big rock. He put one on his ear. He liked it. He picked another one, and another, until he had earrings all over both ears. Coyote began to dance, and he liked the way the earrings rattled when he danced. He said, ‘If I take just one, like my brother said, they will not rattle. I will take them all.'

“So Coyote left the mountain, but when he looked back, he saw the big rock rolling after him. Coyote got scared. He ran across the flats with Rolling Rock chasing him. He climbed the next hill, but Rolling Rock came right up the hill after him. Coyote said, ‘No rock can roll sideways.' So he ran around the side of the hill, but Rolling Rock followed him. Coyote said, ‘No rock can roll through timber.' So he ran through the timber, but the rock came right through the trees.

“Coyote asked his friend, Bear, to stop Rolling Rock. The rock ran over Bear and killed him. He asked Snake for help, but Rolling Rock killed Snake. He asked Eagle. Same thing. Finally, Coyote asked Night Hawk, and Night Hawk jumped high in the sky and dove down on the rock, smashing it to powder.

“Night Hawk said, ‘You should not have taken all the earrings. Because you were greedy, Rolling Rock has killed your friends. Now you must wear those earrings so their shaking will remind you of how greedy you have been. Go straight now, and stop trying to have more things than everybody else.'

“This is a true story, my son. You will know it is true when you see the night hawk diving on bugs, the way Night Hawk dived down on Rolling Rock to smash him.”

The unfinished dogwood arrow shaft lay across Horseback's thighs. “I have killed my friends,” he said. “I have been foolish, like Coyote.”

“Your friends followed their own hearts. They died bravely in battle. Do not worry about them. They are hunting in the Shadow Land. Worry about yourself.”

“Where do I begin?”

“In your heart. Listen to the spirits. When you had your great vision, what did your protector tell you must be done to create the new nation of horse people?”

The answer was so plain, that Horseback felt foolish for having forgotten it. “I must avenge the souls of my ancestors killed in battle. I must make war with the
Na-vohnuh,
our most ancient and terrible of all enemies.”

Shaggy Hump smiled. “You see how the spirits have reminded you. They have sent the
Na-vohnuh
to attack your camp in your absence.”

Horseback nodded. “The spirits are wise, but sometimes wisdom is cruel.”

“The greatest power has the cruelest dark side. You know The Way, my son. You may give your power back to the spirits, and no man will speak against you.”

Horseback moistened the feather and began to paint his arrow shaft again. “I cannot give my power back now. These people have followed me here. I will lead them to the new country of the Horse Nation, or through the Pass to the Shadow Land.”

“Tsah,”
Shaggy Hump said. “Now, tell me, my son, why do you make this arrow? If you want a better brush to paint with, I have one in my lodge. That is just a feather.”

“It is part of my new vision.”

“Another vision?” Shaggy Hump sat up straight on his robe. “Tell me.”

“Sound-the-Sun-Makes came to me while I slept, wounded. He was very angry. His fires burned me. He told me I must make an arrow of dogwood. The point is to be of white flint, like our ancestors used. The sinew binding the point to the shaft must be red, to remind me of the blood of my ancestors. I must paint black rings around the shaft with the feather of a kingfisher. This will make my wounds heal as the water closes up after a kingfisher dives in. Each ring I paint will represent the soul of an ancestor I must avenge. The feathers on my arrow must be from the tail of a hawk.”

“Hawk feathers are no good for making arrows, my son. Blood ruins them. You should use vulture or owl feathers. I have some fine turkey feathers I will give to you.”

“Sound-the-Sun-Makes told me I must use hawk feathers to give my war pony quickness. This is a sacred arrow. It will never draw blood. I must sacrifice this arrow to the sun, in the sight of four brave men.”

“And then, you will have your
puha
back?”

“No. There is more. After I sacrifice the arrow, I am forbidden to eat meat, and I am forbidden to ride until Medicine-Coat comes.”

Shaggy Hump smirked. “Who is Medicine-Coat?”

“My warhorse.”

“How will you know him?”

“Sound-the-Sun-Makes told me I will know him.”

Shaggy Hump nodded. “Then you must believe.”

“I do, my father. I believe.” Carefully, he painted another ring around his sacrificial arrow.

When Horseback was ready for the glue, he came to Teal's fire. He softened the glue in hot water and stuck the end of his arrow shaft into the mass of glue. He had made a notch there to receive the white flint point he had flaked.

“The glue is good,” he said, feeling the point stick firmly to the arrow shaft.

“When it cools, I will place the glue stick in your bow case,” Teal said, “so you will have it to mend things.”

“I must mend my heart, first. I must mend my medicine. I could not do these things without you, Teal. You are a good woman, my sits-beside wife. You make me strong.” He twisted a length of sinew between his fingers and prepared to wrap it around the tip of the arrow shaft and the base of the white flint point.

57

Horseback climbed the first
mountain to the west with his sacred arrow in his quiver. The climb on foot made him tired, and he knew this was part of his penance. This would remind him not to displease his spirit-guide in the future, for he did not like to walk.

Four brave men came with him: Shaggy Hump, Bear Heart, Trotter, and Crazy Eyes, who had distinguished himself during the
Na-vohnuh
raid by stabbing an enemy warrior though wounded himself with three arrows sticking out of him. Coming within easy bow range of the mountain top, Horseback stood under the sun all day, chanting, praying, and smoking his sacred pipe. When the sun touched the mountain top and began to sink beyond, he notched his sacred arrow and drew his bow. He let the arrow fly, and the four brave men all agreed that Father Sun swallowed it with fire.

Returning to camp, Horseback began to assess his weapons while he waited for the arrival of Medicine-Coat. He killed the kingfisher that lived near his camp, piercing it with an arrow as it came up from the water with a fish. He sang many prayers over the dead bird as its plumage dried. He skinned the bird carefully, instructing Teal to tan its thin hide with buffalo brains. When Teal had preserved the kingfisher skin, Horseback told her to fill it with sage and grass to which he added a pinch of the sacred antler dust his Naming Father had given him many winters ago. Then he told Teal to sew the skin up, making the bird look almost alive again. He attached this sacred kingfisher
puhante
to the center of his shield.

Horseback began to crave the pleasure of a ride, but knew he must await the arrival of Medicine-Coat, or anger Sound-the-Sun-Makes. For days, he watched the ponies, followed them, walked among them, spoke to them, smelled their sweet breath. None became Medicine-Coat.

Waking one morning, he gently picked up little Sandhill while the boy slept, carried him to the creek, and threw him into a little pool. Horseback laughed as the boy came out of the cold water, coughing and shuttering with surprise.

“My son!” he said. “This is a good day to wake up early. Come, you are going to ride today! You are Comanche—the one your ally calls his enemy.”

He warmed the boy in his arms and had Teal feed him a mixture of milk and blood collected from the slashed utters of a buffalo cow Shaggy Hump had killed the day before. Then Horseback took Sandhill to the pony herd and chose a gelding. It was not the wildest pony in the herd. Neither was it the laziest. As he wove a short length of rawhide rope into the gelding's mane at the withers, Shaggy Hump wandered out of the camp to watch.

“Climb onto your pony,” Horseback said to Sandhill. “Use the rawhide rope to pull yourself up.”

Sandhill clawed at the rope that hung down from the mane. The boy kicked and grunted, as his father and grandfather laughed. The gelding stood still through the entire travail, until finally Horseback boosted the boy onto the back of the pony.

“You must learn to climb up by yourself,” he said, handing the reins to the boy, “unless you want to stay in camp with the women and girls while the men go hunting.”

Sandhill only smiled and kicked his legs wildly at the flanks of the pony. He had ridden many times with his father. He knew how to handle the reins and send signals to his mount. The pony trotted away, veering this way and that to the wild pulls Sandhill made on the reins.

“Not that way!” Horseback shouted. “Come back here!” When Sandhill returned to him, he said, “Where are you going? Your pony darts around like a squirrel. You must know in your heart where you go, then make your pony feel your heart. See that cactus? Ride there. Keep the way in your heart so your pony can feel it. Go straight.”

“Straighter than straight!” Shaggy Hump added.

Sandhill rode to the cactus and back, making the pony trot in a near perfect line. Returning to his father, he tried to hang onto the side of his mount like a warrior using his pony for a shield, but his leg slipped over the back of the pony and he landed flat on his back in the dirt. Horseback and Shaggy Hump laughed at him as he rose and gasped for breath.

“Why did you fall off?” Horseback asked.

“I was trying to use my pony for a shield, like the warriors,” Sandhill said.

“It is easier after your pony sweats, then his coat sticks to your leggings better. You must ride hard first. Now, get back on and make that pony sweat. You will learn.”

Sandhill turned and looked at the pony, standing several steps away. He clenched his fists and gathered himself for the challenge. He backed up two steps, then hurled himself at the gelding, leaping to grab the rawhide rope higher than the time before. Kicking and clawing, he groped for a fistful of mane, found it, pulled himself higher, got an elbow over the withers. Horseback and Shaggy Hump almost doubled over in their valiant efforts to restrain their laughter. After three attempts, the boy threw a leg over the back of the pony and lay there, catching his breath.

“Now you mount like an elder sister, but that is better than a younger sister. You will learn. Ride, my son!”

Sandhill spent most of the day on his pony as Horseback shouted encouragement and advice. When the pony was sweating, the boy indeed rode like a warrior for a short distance, clutching the mane with one hand, and keeping one leg fast across the back of the gelding, before falling off again, this time onto a yucca plant that pierced his skin in three places that he fancied as arrow wounds.