Conquering Horse (13 page)

An owl hooted immediately overhead. Both man and horse started.

“It is too near not to be a true call,” No Name whispered.

“Ae. But it will be as the nighthawk said. A thing will happen.”

No Name considered. For all his crude ways, Circling Hawk was as crafty and as daring as any Yankton. These things had been proven many times, on horse-raiding parties as well as on buffalo hunts.

No Name said, “Come, let us sit on the ground a while. I hear a cricket under us. It is one of those who know how to point the way. I will catch it and ask it how we should go.”

Both dismounted, letting their horses crop in tall grass.

No Name sat very still, as did Circling Hawk. The cricket, which had fallen silent when they stepped down, presently
started up again, chirking lively cheer at No Name’s feet. No Name’s eyes narrowed, began to glow like a panther’s. After a second, he made out the cricket, as much by sight as by sound. Its rubbing wings gave off a tiny radiance. Hollowing his hand, he cupped it up in a darting motion.

“Have you caught it?”

“Ae. But it is frightened. We will let it rest a moment.”

The cricket sprang twice, trying to get out of his cupped hand. Each time it tickled him so much he almost laughed out loud. He held it gently. It sat very still. No Name breathed with his mouth open and so slowly his breath was not audible. He waited.

After some moments, the cricket moved, itching No Name’s palm.

“Ah, it is ready to speak.” No Name cautiously opened his hand and looked in. He could barely make out the cricket against the light skin of his palm. “Little grandfather,” he said, “is it safe to cross over this night? We wish to know.”

The cricket twitched this way, that way. It seemed bewildered by the question.

“Tell us. You are the wise one of the night. We wish to know.”

Circling Hawk, squatting near, leaned in close to watch. His smell was very strong, and No Name was reminded of Leaf’s remark that his face was rough all over like a toad’s back.

The cricket twitched back and forth once more, then suddenly sprang out, straight ahead toward the river.

“Ae,” No Name whispered. “It tells us the true way. Come, let us cross over. We thank you, little grandfather.”

Circling Hawk got to his feet slowly. “The medicine of the cricket is not as great as that of the nighthawk. A thing will yet happen to us.”

“Hoppo! let us charge the river. I am not afraid.”

“Also, the other side has steep mud banks. Our horses will sink under us.”

“The water will carry us far.” No Name looked across the wide
sheeting water. “I see a place where a small river enters from the west. There will be sand at its mouth.”

They led their horses by the nose toward the river. Both men had thumb and forefinger ready to pinch off any inquiring whinny. Hooves and moccasins crunched softly in the giving sand. The sandbar glowed underfoot with a vague amber light.

The sand began to slope down sharply. They stopped. Without a word both took off the robe pad saddles, removed their clothes, rolled clothes and arrows inside the robes, the ends tucked in tight and waterproof, then fastened the packs and also their bows on top of their heads. They urged the horses into the water.

Lizard leaned down to drink.

“Come, brave one,” No Name whispered, “you must not drink now or you will founder. Also it is time to cross over. Soon the Nibbled Moon will appear and by then we must be hidden in the woods on the other side.”

They moved into the sliding waters. Despite the deep dark, the waters still had a yellowish-brown cast. The waters moved up cold ring by cold ring, stinging, over the knee, up the thigh, searching in the crotch, up the narrow belly, each time making them catch their breath.

Lizard suddenly was of a mind to go back. He snorted; tried to turn in the water. No Name quietly closed off his nostrils and held him to the task. They struggled in the washing waters, snorting, coughing. Then, wrestling, both plunged over the drop-off and the river took hold of them.

No Name gave his horse a final whack on the rump, then slid back along the horse’s flank, careful to stay out of reach of the powerful stroking hooves, and latched onto the tip of the horse’s tail. He steered Lizard for the far shore. Only the horse’s waggling head and his own pack-burdened head showed out of the water. Circling Hawk and his dun horse followed close behind. Dark curling eddies washed off to one side of them. The sound of their swimming was lost in the wash of the rushing current.

The water was burning cold, but the river was not too wild.
A moon or so later, during the great spring flood, the waters would roughen into loud boiling whirlpools, with uprooted trees sawing up and down in the waves.

Then, even as the thought of the deadly sawyers passed through his mind, and just as they reached the driving main channel, a thing came sliding out of the north toward them. It was a huge cottonwood with vast sprawling limbs. It came at them roots first, like an octopus half-risen in wrath out of the river. No Name was so startled he cried out, once, gulping water. Then, recovering, he quickly gave Lizard’s tail a jerk, trying to steer him downstream and outswim it. But Lizard, who had also started at seeing the suddenly looming thing, was too busy trying to stay upright in the rushing channel. It was then that No Name noticed that the water below moved faster than the water on the surface. He could feel the terrible suck of it beneath him. Again he jerked at Lizard’s tail, twisting it viciously, trying to steer him to the left and ahead of the looming terror. But the struggle to stay upright in the racing tan water was all-consuming and both horse and man headed straight for the tree.

Circling Hawk cried out in warning.

They collided. The great cottonwood bore on for a second, then slowly began to revolve in the water. Both man and horse struggled against the turning wheel of roots. Finally one of the huge tentacle roots landed on Lizard’s neck and shoved him under. A moment later a second root, snake-smooth, caught No Name under the belly and lifted him clear. The wheel of roots began to turn swiftly. The root under him lifted him so quickly he stroked twice in the air before he could catch himself. When he came to the top of the wheel’s revolution, the horse’s tail was jerked out of his hand. He grabbed onto the root under his belly with both hands and hung on.

Again Circling Hawk cried behind him. “Ai!”

Down the other side No Name went with the great wheel. He hit neck-first and went under in a wallowing glut of cold muddy water. Instantly buoyant waters pressed him tight against the
root, almost squeezing the breath out of him. He felt the air-tight pack of clothes push against his head, then jerk at it. Then something cracked him over the back of his skull, hard. His brain suddenly went hot with it, then numb.

He came back to life lying on his belly. He heard grit sand grinding against his forehead. Someone was bouncing him up and down on the sand. Each time he hit, his forehead and nose worked deeper into a little trench. He heard someone grunt over him as he was lifted yet again.

He stirred, trying to roll over and get his face out of the scouring sand.

The someone, feeling him stir, instantly turned him over. Carefully he sat him up. “Come back, friend, I have you safe.”

No Name opened his eyes. He saw a big head and huge shoulders humped over him. The shape reminded him of his dead brother Pretty Rock. He coughed. Water trickled from the corners of his mouth. His eyes cleared. Then he saw that the someone was Circling Hawk. “Friend,” he croaked, “I thank you. You are my brother.”

“You were very heavy in the water.”

Suddenly No Name’s bones began to ache with cold. He shook with it. “The tree caught me. Then it hit me.”

Circling Hawk covered him with his fur robe. “I saw it. When the tree turned again I wrestled you free.”

No Name coughed. Again water trickled down his chin. “Ahh,” he gasped in misery, “a part of me has died.”

Circling Hawk bundled him warmly in his arms. “Your breath soul left you for a time. But not your shadow soul.”

No Name shivered. His teeth began to chatter like a cicada chirring. “You have saved me,” he said slowly, hollowly. Again the deep cold in his bones made him shiver. “What shall I give you?”

Circling Hawk shook him roughly in his arms. “Be strong. Tomorrow you go to fast.”

“Where is my horse?”

“It stands behind us.”

No Name looked. The Nibbled Moon had just come up across the wide river and in its vague light Lizard shone like a wet blackberry. “It is good.”

“The nighthawk told true that a thing would happen.”

“Ae. And the cricket told false. Perhaps it was frightened.”

Circling Hawk shook him again, hard. “Come, we cannot linger here. There may be Ree after all. The nighthawk may have meant to tell us of yet another thing besides the angry water tree.”

Still dizzy, No Name struggled to his knees. Long snakes of black hair lay sopping wet on his neck. “You have saved my life. I shall remember it forever. What shall I give you, my brother?”

Circling Hawk got to his feet. He stood very still for a moment. Then a raw sob escaped him. “Where is Leaf? Where are her bones?”

No Name staggered to his feet. He stood apart, alone. Slowly his whirling mind steadied, slowly his lips became grim and his eyes hardened. Then he said, “We must try to be brave men and take things as they come. We cannot weep.”

Circling Hawk stiffened on the sand beside him. “I lay my hand over the mouth. Take up your robe and let us move on.”

They slipped into their buckskins again, slung the quiver and the bow over their backs. The bowstrings were wet and hung slack, so both made sure of their knives.

They went barefoot, leading their horses, with Circling Hawk up ahead. They moved cautiously up the river bed of the small stream, staying well in the deep shadow along the south bank. The water was shallow. It rippled gently against the shin. The sand underneath, though harsh, made good footing.

The stream wound back through high land. With each twist and turn the bluffs kept parting to allow them passage. The Nibbled Moon provided for the eyes just enough light to make
out the silhouettes of trees and bushes. Occasional bats skimmed erratically across the surface of the water.

They had traveled upstream for about an hour, and were well back into the west hills, when Circling Hawk suddenly held up his hand for silence. Quickly No Name slipped an arm around his horse’s nose ready to choke off a whinny. Horse and man stood motionless in the water. No Name’s wild black hair still lay in wet strands on his neck and every now and then a drop ran down his back. Also, an eyelash seemed doubled under in the corner of his eye. It itched, almost hurt, each time his eyes moved back and forth, but he dared not lift a hand to rub it.

Then, like Circling Hawk, he saw it. The top of a horned head slowly came to view over the edge of a large gray boulder on the north side of the stream. Next came a pair of broad bare shoulders, then the heavy torso of a man. No Name instantly recognized the horned head. It was a Ree, one of those who were cousins of the Pawnee. The Ree had probably heard splashing in the water and had come to investigate.

No Name saw Circling Hawk’s hand slide slowly up over his shoulder and carefully select an arrow in his quiver.

“The fool,” No Name thought, “the bowstring is still wet. It cannot send the arrow.”

The same thought must have come to Circling Hawk. His hand paused, held, then slowly fell back and reached for his knife instead.

The Ree’s dark torso loomed clearly against the stars. The soft light of the Nibbled Moon gave the Ree’s chest the deep hue of walnut. From where they stood hiding in the deep shadow, a good fifty steps away, No Name thought he could make out the slow rolling back and forth of the Ree’s eyes, and see his nostrils quiver, opening and closing, trying to get scent of them.

The Ree’s right hand rose and also reached over his shoulder for an arrow. He fitted it to his bow. The feather on the arrow glinted for a second as he turned it a little to make it fit perfectly. The Ree drew the arrow all the way back to the point,
then let fly. The arrow speared straight for Circling Hawk. No Name’s eyes blinked just as the arrow was upon Circling Hawk and for a second he was sure his companion had been hit. But Circling Hawk did not cry out. Nor did his horse jump. Then No Name heard the arrow whack into the clay bank beside them.

The Ree waited, watching to see what effect the arrow might have.

No Name held himself stiffly erect. His thumb and forefinger lay poised over Lizard’s nose.

The Ree at last seemed satisfied, and slowly withdrew, the waist first, then the chest, and finally the horned head.

Circling Hawk broke out of his stony stance and let go of a long soft sigh. He looked over his shoulder at No Name. “The nighthawk was right to warn us.”

“Ae, it is true.” No Name rubbed the eyelash out of the corner of his eye. He looked up at the moon. “The night departs. Let us go on.”

An hour later they found a good place to sleep. It was a turn in the river where young willows grew thick on a low sandy bar. They picketed their horses and trampled down a place for their beds. Rolling themselves up in their robes, with the smell of horse sharp in the fur, they fell asleep side by side.

4

Munching jaws awoke him.

Opening his eyes cautiously, No Name saw it was their horses. Lizard and Dusty had found themselves a small patch of spring grass within the willows.

Then he noticed all the birdsong. A goldfinch sang from a twig immediately above him: “See-see-e! Baby-babee!” A cardinal called somewhere behind him, clear, happy: “With with with cheer! with with with cheer!”

No Name smiled. The wingeds were happy this morning. It was good. He nuzzled comfortably against the coarse fur of his robe.

Circling Hawk stirred against him.

No Name called softly. “Day is here, my brother.”

Circling Hawk sat up with a rush out of his sleeping robe. “Whaugh!”

For the first time in his life, No Name found himself looking upon Circling Hawk’s wolfish features and wild eyes with pleasure.
This was now his brother, the brave man who, despite their rivalry, had saved him from drowning and had comforted him in his huge arms.