Authors: Don Coldsmith
Follow the Wind (9 page)
A council in
the early morning was an almost unheard of thing among the People. Word spread rapidly and people hurried to assemble. It had to be a matter of extreme importance to initiate such a council. There was hardly anyone who stayed away, though at most councils many were too bored to attend.
the early morning was an almost unheard of thing among the People. Word spread rapidly and people hurried to assemble. It had to be a matter of extreme importance to initiate such a council. There was hardly anyone who stayed away, though at most councils many were too bored to attend.
The council opened quickly. South Wind was the heroine of the hour, having just escaped several moons of captivity by the enemy. Her story was improving with retelling and she made a dramatic presentation, ending with a plea to help the Hair-faces. Many hearts were moved.
“There are many here who knew of these Hair-faces.”
Heads Off glanced around the circle at the members of the Elk-dog Society. Some hung their heads, expecting a reprimand, but the chief continued.
“You have had time to consider the matter. Tell us your thoughts.”
Hesitantly at first, then more freely, discussion began to flow around the circle.
Soon three distinct attitudes became apparent. One strong faction was willing to let well enough alone. If the Hair-faces and the enemy Head Splitters destroyed each other, so much the better. That would remove two threats.
Almost at opposites, but with similar motives, were the more militant warriors of the tribe. These were primarily members of the Blood Society. They wished to fight on the side of anyone who would fight Head Splitters, the traditional enemy.
The third faction were those who strongly felt that the Hair-faces should be helped, if only because they were of the tribe of Heads Off. This group grew rapidly in strength, urged on by South Wind. The girl was very persuasive and very vocal. By this time, she felt certain that the old man who led the Hair-faces was the father of Heads Off. And it made little difference, she argued. If he were not the chief's father, he might have been. They should help the Hair-faces, just as they would help one of the other bands of the People in similar circumstances. It was a matter of blood, of common heritage.
Heads Off attempted to stay out of the discussion to form an objective opinion. Someone asked if this
could
be his father and he had to admit that he did not know. It hardly seemed likely, but was not impossible. Even as he said it, the young chief had a strange feeling of detachment, as if he were speaking of someone else. His life as Juan Garcia seemed worlds away. He had become thoroughly one of the People. Yet there was a gnawing doubt, an unresolved question in the back of his mind. Could this actually be his father, come to search for him? Even at the time, his foremost thoughts were of what effect this might have on his adopted people. He thought of his family, his friends in the tribe. How would they be affected by contact with the Spanish, whether it was his father or not?
could
be his father and he had to admit that he did not know. It hardly seemed likely, but was not impossible. Even as he said it, the young chief had a strange feeling of detachment, as if he were speaking of someone else. His life as Juan Garcia seemed worlds away. He had become thoroughly one of the People. Yet there was a gnawing doubt, an unresolved question in the back of his mind. Could this actually be his father, come to search for him? Even at the time, his foremost thoughts were of what effect this might have on his adopted people. He thought of his family, his friends in the tribe. How would they be affected by contact with the Spanish, whether it was his father or not?
His attention swung back to the circle, where Coyote was speaking. Heads Off had seen the keen mind of his father-in-law shift and probe at the question, changing his position. It had become obvious that Coyote had been instrumental in the concealment of the developments. It was just as obvious that he had done so for the good of the People and Heads Off found it easy to forgive.
Now it was equally apparent that the new information was swinging Coyote's opinion closer to that of South Wind.
“âand I think,” he was saying, “that it makes little difference who these Hair-faces are. If they are enemies of the Head Splitters, they are friends of the People!”
There was a shout of approval from the Blood Society and much shaking of weapons in the air. It appeared that the collective thought of the People was reaching unanimity.
“We must hurry before we are too late!” cried South Wind.
Yet there remained one more thing.
“White Buffalo,” called the chief, “can you give us a vision, uncle?”
The old medicine man shuffled forward and spread a tanned skin on the ground. Its inner surface was decorated with painted designs and mystic symbols. Crow Woman beat the ceremonial drum while her husband circled in dance steps around the painted skin.
Apparently, many thought the outcome a foregone conclusion. Men were running here and there, obtaining their weapons and catching up their best horses. In the distance, someone exuberantly voiced the full-throated war cry of the People.
White Buffalo continued to chant and the mind of Heads Off raced ahead. The village must be defended and they could leave that in charge of the Bowstring Society. They were older, proven warriors, most of whom had been initiated before the advent of the horse. They were experts in the art of warfare on foot. They would do an admirable job of looking after the village.
The war party would include members of both the Elk-dog and the Blood societies. Heads Off was a trifle uneasy. The headstrong Bloods had nearly caused the annihilation of the People only a season ago, but then relented and returned to join in combat against the Head Splitters.
Heads Off caught the eye of Red Dog, leader of the Blood Society, and motioned to him. The warrior approached, standing proud and stiff before his chief, and Heads Off had the ludicrous idea for a moment that the young man was about to salute.
“Red Dog,” he asked quietly, “can we count on the Bloods to stay with the war party and act well?”
“My chief,” Red Dog's face lit up, “the Bloods are ready to follow you anywhere!”
Heads Off smiled. He well remembered the surprise charge by the rebel Bloods which had saved the day for the People and brought them back together. Red Dog himself had led the assault, routing the enemy. There was no question of the bravery of the Bloods, only of their judgment. That would remain to be seen. However, the chief was inclined to think that the problems of discipline were behind them. Red Dog seemed a sensible subchief, although young.
White Buffalo had reached the end of his chant and dropped to his knees before the painted skin. People came running to watch the end of the ceremony. The medicine man raised his arms and turned his face to the sky for just a few moments more of the chant. It was always good to have a large audience.
Finally, he raised the horn high and, with a magnificent sweeping gesture, cast its contents across the skin. Small bits of wood, horn, bone, and bright pebbles bounced and skittered across the colored surface and came to rest.
There was absolute quiet. The old man squinted and poked at the small objects on the skin, then stiffly rose to go and stand before the chief. Crow Woman began to gather up the equipment of her husband's profession.
“My chief,” White Buffalo announced clearly, “the signs are good!”
There was a rising chorus of shouts as warriors rushed for their horses.
Cabeza sat loosely
in the saddle as they traveled, his thoughts a confused jumble. He was alert to the possibility of danger, but felt that the time was not now. According to the girl, South Wind, they would be attacked in night camp tonight.
in the saddle as they traveled, his thoughts a confused jumble. He was alert to the possibility of danger, but felt that the time was not now. According to the girl, South Wind, they would be attacked in night camp tonight.
He was inclined to believe her and, in fact, was certain that she could be trusted. After all, the girl had come to warn him, at considerable risk to herself. It had all happened so rapidly, yet there were some things about her evening visit to him that were evident.
Most obvious was the wrath of Lean Bull. Cabeza was puzzled over the man's change in attitude. That first night, he had practically thrown the girl at the visitor, yet he had later appeared almost jealous of their relationship.
And that was another puzzling thing. Even allowing for the great differences in their cultures, Cabeza thought that he was an accurate judge of people. The emotions that the girl had shown reflected something more than the ordinary. Unless he was badly mistaken, South Wind was exhibiting genuine affectionâand of a rather special sort. Again, he recalled that
she had risked her life to warn him of the danger ahead.
she had risked her life to warn him of the danger ahead.
This line of thought called his mind again to the odd direction his own feelings had taken. He could still hardly believe that he had almost been involved in a fight with knives over a woman. Mother of God, that was the sort of thing that happened in sordid taverns and brothels and back alleys. Yet it had happened to him, merely because he had tried to protect the girl. That had seemed only a gentlemanly thing to do at the time.
At least, that was what Cabeza kept trying to convince himself. There were other disturbing thoughts. He was irritated that he was unable to remove the girl from his mind for very long at a time. He repeatedly wondered what was to become of her. After the Garcia party had left the area, Cabeza would no longer be able to protect her. The very thought made him feel sad and depressed.
Then the young lieutenant would shake his head in disbelief. He could not be concerned with the welfare of every young native on the plains. Yet, even as he derided his own stupidity, he would remind himself once more that this was no ordinary native girl. South Wind was a special person who had not only shown special feeling for him, but had risked her life to warn him of danger. He kept coming back to that and felt that his thoughts were moving in a circle.
He glanced over at the well-armed native who rode a few paces to his left. Cabeza was not certain how the travelers were expected to regard this native escort. It was clear that Don Pedro Garcia considered the contingent of warriors a sort of military honor guard. He seemed pleased and flattered.
True, the native leader had been convincing when the party of travelers had prepared to depart. Vowing friendship and assistance, he had announced by means of the sign talk that warriors would accompany them to show the way. He himself would go, Lean Bull announced.
Cabeza suspected other motives. There had been an unpleasant scene shortly after daylight. The native chief had approached the Garcia camp in a rage. He flatly accused Cabeza of stealing his horse and the young woman, South Wind. Only by much persuasion on the part of Lizard and some of his
own people could Lean Bull be convinced. His missing property was simply not there.
own people could Lean Bull be convinced. His missing property was simply not there.
He then made the accusation that there was some plot for the escaped girl to meet the travelers later with the stolen horse. Again, Cabeza denied the accusation. Privately, the young man wished he
had
been able to formulate such a plan.
had
been able to formulate such a plan.
Finally, Lean Bull tired of his harangue and turned away, obviously not convinced. Later, he appeared with the “honor guard” as they were about to depart. By this time, he was smiling and full of friendship again, though he avoided Cabeza.
Cabeza was convinced that there were ulterior motives here. First, it was obvious that if the runaway girl did try to contact the Garcia party, she might be recaptured and the horse recovered. Beyond that, as the day wore on, Cabeza became more and more convinced that the warning of South Wind was accurate. The present situation placed a war party of well-armed Head Splitters in or near the camp of the travelers when it became time for the night halt.
So far, Cabeza had spoken to no one of his warning from the girl. It would be necessary, of course, but he could wait for a time. He might discover more information about the plot. Then he could inform the others. Meanwhile, he was as friendly and jovial as he dared, to the warrior on his left, especially.
He tried to engage the other in conversation in the sign talk, but the native was noncommunicative. He answered either very briefly or not at all.
Cabeza's suspicions were strengthened after a noon rest halt. Lean Bull approached Garcia with dignity and announced that they were returning to their village. Two men, he added, somewhat as an afterthought, would stay with the travelers for a time to guide them on the way. Garcia was profuse in his thanks.
How clever, thought Cabeza. They now have spies in our camp. The others stay back just out of sight, ready to attack when the spies give the word. He must speak to Don Pedro.
It was nearing evening before he found opportunity to ride next to the old man and share his information.
“
Señor
Garcia, I must speak with you of serious matters.”
Señor
Garcia, I must speak with you of serious matters.”
“Yes, Ramon, what is it?”
The elder man was so cheerful, so optimistic and exuberant, that Cabeza was almost reluctant to lay the burden he carried on the proud old shoulders. But he had to. He kneed his black horse closer and lowered his tone.
“I have cause,
señor
, to think we may be attacked tonight.”
señor
, to think we may be attacked tonight.”
True to his military training, Garcia's facial expression never changed. He sat the gray mare and looked straight ahead as he responded calmly.
“Why do you think so, Lieutenant?”
Rapidly, Cabeza sketched in the events of the past two days, some of which Garcia already knew. The young man skipped lightly over his true feelings for the girl, but Don Pedro was observant. He smiled.
“You like this girl a great deal, Ramon?”
“More important, sir, I trust her!”
Garcia nodded.
“I wondered what the scene this morning was all about. Are you certain about this attack?”
“Oh no,
señor.
But the girl was. And everything fits. Do you not think it strange that our escort left us, but left spies?”
señor.
But the girl was. And everything fits. Do you not think it strange that our escort left us, but left spies?”
“Guides, Lieutenant,” Garcia laughed.
Then he sobered.
“Yes, Ramon, I did think it odd. It will do well to be on guard and no harm is done if we are wrong.”
The two men rode in silence for a time, then Garcia spoke again.
“You must quietly alert your lancers and the bowmen, but be sure they do not arouse suspicion. I will do the same with the others. When we camp, put your blanket near mine.”
He wheeled the gray horse and sauntered off, as if they had merely been discussing the weather. Cabeza continued for a time in the casual fashion of a bored traveler. Then he reined over to ride beside bushy-bearded Sergeant Perez of the lancers.
In this way, the word spread quietly, with the caution not to take any overt action or even to look as if anything were suspected.
The routine chores of setting up camp proceeded as twilight drew near. Cabeza spread his blankets near those of Don Pedro and joined the old man as he sat on a rock to contemplate the evening.
“Do you notice anything, Ramon?”
“No sir.”
“Nor do I. But we must watch those two.”
The sky darkened and the stars began to come out. Cabeza watched as the men, one by one, sought their blankets. Finally, he rose, stretched and yawned, and, bidding a loud good night to Garcia, turned to his bed. The older man soon followed.
The camp was quiet, the fires only piles of warm white ashes, and Cabeza was still wide awake. The Great Bear had swung only a fraction of his nightly circle in the northern sky when one, then the other, of the natives rose quietly to his feet and slipped silently into the darkness.
The lieutenant reached to alert Garcia, but the old man's voice showed that he, too, observed.
“Wait a few moments, Ramon. Then we will wake the others. There is much to do.”
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