Sacajawea (32 page)

“So,” Kakoakis said. He looked thoughtful, and took a drink of rum. “All right,” he said. “We will wait on this matter. Your woman may go, but the girl stays here.” He reached out for Sacajawea and pulled her beside him. “You should be honored. You are a fair one. You would be even fairer wearing a weasel collar.” He laughed, and his long, bony fingers ran around her neck. She shivered, afraid to speak. Sun Woman was gone. She and Broken Tooth were the only women at the men’s game.

Four Bears indicated that Sacajawea should sit to the side of Redpipe; then he turned to Charbonneau. Four Bears’s hands doubled into fists. He raised them in front of Charbonneau and then let them flop down. “I do not want any trouble.” He emphasized his words again with hand signs.

Charbonneau eyed Sacajawea, then looked at the hussy, Broken Tooth.

Redpipe spoke up at last.
“Ai,
the bet has already been made. It is for the lithesome child, Broken Tooth.”

Charbonneau sighed heavily, testing the feel of the bones. “The bet has been made,” he said, passing Red-pipe the jug. “Put more rum in your belly. You have the guess.” Charbonneau poured some rum down his own throat, then handed the jug to Black Cat, whopassed it to Kakoakis. Kakoakis drank, licked his lips, and began the chant. The game of hands resumed.

Sacajawea sat hunched, trying not to look at the drooping eyelid that half concealed the milk-white film on Kakoakis’s blind eye, nor the two beady eyes under the bushy black eyebrows of Charbonneau, who was now moving the sticks. Her eyes flicked to Four Bears and Redpipe. Their faces told her nothing. She kept her eyes on Charbonneau’s hands.

Four Bears rose to put more sticks on the fire; then he leaned toward Sacajawea.

“You,” he whispered, “keep your shirt on.”

“I have no shirt, only a tunic!”

“That’s it! Good,” he said approvingly. “You have good nerves. As long as you can joke, you are all right.”

She had not meant it for a joke. She did not feel like joking.

Charbonneau celebrated the winning of his bet by placing his cupped hand on the bare breast of Broken Tooth. He looked at Redpipe, who celebrated his loss of Broken Tooth by putting his hand out for the jug.

“This one is nice,” Charbonneau said, passing Red-pipe the rum, “but she is too far from a virgin. It is
that
one I want”—he pointed to Sacajawea—“the young one.”

“She was not the bet,” Redpipe said.

“Well, I
want
her to be the bet!” Charbonneau yelled.

“Wanting is not enough,” Four Bears said.

“Wanting is not enough!” Charbonneau mimicked, pronouncing the Mandan words very badly. “Wanting is not enough!” He rose to face Four Bears, who stood also. “And what business is it of yours? She is just a squaw, so wanting
is
enough.”

And then, faster than Sacajawea could comprehend, Jussome and Black Cat were standing near Charbonneau, who had raised his skinning knife and jammed the point of it into Four Bears’s ribs. It was no light blow. Four Bears’ mouth came open. He stepped backward, and the point followed him.

“All right, Big Tess,” Jussome said in French. “Let him be. Sit and play the game properly. Your head runs too hot.”

“No,” Charbonneau said. “I say for Redpipe to putup his daughter for your line, and I will put up Jussome’s squaw for mine.”

At that moment Charbonneau’s head turned in search of Broken Tooth. She was not in the vicinity of the game. She had slipped past the arguing players, past the onlookers, and stealthily moved to the center of the arena. With furtive glances now and again back toward the noisy crowd, she groped inside the ancient medicine ark. Then her hand felt the round coolness of the golden coin. There was no mistake—this was something valuable, and her man, Jussome, could trade or sell it for many goods. She thought of the riches and the power it would bring. She was filled with vainglory as she caressed the coin.

Moving fast, Four Bears nearly knocked Chief Black Cat over as he spotted Broken Tooth with her hands clutching something to her breasts. He sucked his cheeks in between his teeth as he went forward shouting, “Stop!” It was abrupt and clear.

Broken Tooth stopped as if stung. Her eyes flashed, and her mood changed into savagery like a stirred snake’s. She flung the coin at Jussome, who moved slowly with the crowd up behind Four Bears. It struck him in the breast, but if it hurt, he gave no sign. He covered the coin with both hands for a moment, then let it drop like a hot stone. He turned away from the face of his woman to stare into the icy eyes of Four Bears. “I think she, my woman, she was looking—ah— looking for another jug of rum.
Zut! Stupide femme!”

Four Bears’s eyes were like bits of ice. “It was not rum she looked for. You know that.” He took a step toward Broken Tooth.

Her face twitched, and she felt her legs shake. She ducked from his grasp, picked up the coin, and dropped it with a thud back through the dark, dank hole of the ark.

“So, it was you who planned this raid on our sacred artifacts. You who thought of nothing but the riches they would bring. You did not take time to think that things from a past age could be wiped out, so that one day there would be no one left to recall them. You are less than a pack rat. I could slash your throat!”

Broken Tooth shrank back. She could not go far withthe crowd packed in around her now. Four Bears lunged for her neck. Sacajawea drew in her breath as she saw Jussome’s hand rise up until his hunting knife appeared above the back of Four Bears like a spear. Then the crowd swarmed in front of Sacajawea’s eyes, and hands from everywhere took hold of Broken Tooth and slapped and pounded. They pulled and pushed. The crowd was made up of faces with mouths wide open, yelling, and arms flaying and punching.

Four Bears stood now like a man turned to stone as the crowd heaved back and forth, almost the way trees sway back and forth in a strong wind. Charbonneau elbowed his way in with the jug under his arm. He offered it to Four Bears, who, trancelike, drank huge drafts. Then Charbonneau offered the jug to Redpipe.

“No,” sputtered Redpipe, staggering to the far edge of the crowd. His face was red and getting redder. His head dropped a little forward. His thick shoulders dropped, too—not sagging, but hunching solidly. His head and shoulders swayed a little as his eyes stared along the edge of the crowd.

“Oh, by
Jésus!”
Jussome said, throwing his hat on the ground.

Sacajawea looked from Broken Tooth to Redpipe. She wondered if he were drunk or having one of his falling spells. She was feeling detached, past the point of fear.

“Go back and sit down!” yelled Chief Kakoakis to the crowd. “Women—they are the curse of man. I will show you how to handle the situation.” Chief Kakoakis rose to his full height, pulled a knife from under his breechclout, and pointed it to the starlit heavens, giving a big shout. Then Kakoakis reached down with his powerful hand and pulled Sacajawea to him by one braid of hair. All hands were still, and all eyes were on Chief Kakoakis. All this was so unexpected that Sacajawea could hardly make her legs hold her up. Her heart beat like hummingbird wings. Kakoakis slashed the knife across his own wrist, across the right wrist of Sacajawea, and then he held their wounds tightly together. Blood ran down to Sacajawea’s elbow and dripped to the ground. She was so surprised by this sudden happening that her wrist did not seem to hurt at all. Withthe two wrists together, Kakoakis said in his loud voice, “See, here, this girl is the blood daughter of Kakoakis.”

Redpipe gave a funny, choked laugh.

Kakoakis went on, “Let us forget this unfinished theft. It will not happen again. You have my word. Remember the game. I say for Jussome to put up his squaw for his side and I will put up my new blood daughter for my side.” He laughed, enjoying the look on the faces of Redpipe and Four Bears.

Mostly the men roared approval of Kokoakis’s solution, although there were a few mutterings and one loud
“Na-aah!”
from Four Bears, who shifted his weight as he felt the probe of Charbonneau’s knife, which was once again against his ribs.

Kakoakis bowed and returned to his place. “Two women are better than one,” he said. “It is settled. If my new blood daughter is won in a fair game, let her go as the woman of my old friend Charbonneau, whose man part never hangs limp!”

Jussome slapped Charbonneau on the back as Charbonneau gave a mighty shout and pawed the earth in the manner of a bull buffalo.

Broken Tooth’s volatile mood changed again, and she showed delight with Sacajawea’s discomfort. She gestured to Jussome. With glittering black eyes and guttural gloatings of relief that her neck was intact, she suggested that his buffalo robe be placed in the center of the players and that the two prizes sit on the robe. Jussome was eager to comply with the frivolity and beamed at his woman for such a splendid suggestion.

Sacajawea began to inch backward toward the woods. An instinct for survival had been touched in her. Her breathing was hard, and her chest hurt. Jussome saw her, gave a low laugh, and spun around, scooping her up in his arms and returning her to the group of laughing men. ‘This child thinks she can slip away from the mighty Bear of the Forest. She shakes like a frightened meadow mouse.” He placed her beside Charbonneau. She looked away, toward Redpipe. She screamed.

The men were startled. Four Bears recovered first and looked toward Redpipe, whose head had fallen and who was making bubbling noises. Four Bears pushed Redpipe’s head up, he saw his pale face twitch, his eyesroll, and his head, body, and limbs begin to jerk about as his hands opened and closed.

“The falling sickness!” Four Bears exclaimed. He ran to Redpipe. Foam had gathered at the corners of Red-pipe’s mouth, bloodstained from his tongue, which was caught between his teeth and was deeply bitten.

Four Bears could not pull Redpipe’s mouth open; his jaws were snapped together like a sprung beaver’s trap. The men shrank back. Redpipe’s breathing became shallow. Four Bears called for help to carry Redpipe to his lodge.

Jussome’s knife flashed in the firelight toward Four Bears’s chest. “He will not move away. Leave him here. We are still in the game,” said Jussome.

Like the other Mandan men, Four Bears had come in good faith, unarmed. Now he could do nothing for Redpipe, but must sit quietly between Jussome and Charbonneau, two of the three armed men in the game.

Sacajawea saw only one thing to do. She stood on her feet. She did not attempt to run away, but stood very still. Her head ached, and her hands were damp. She could feel a little river of sweat beginning to flow down the center of her back. She sucked in a deep breath of air to steady herself. To speak was an unheard-of thing, she knew that. Women never spoke up in front of a group of men. But if she did speak, if she were able to say anything, surely Charbonneau would see how completely undesirable she was. For a Shoshoni woman, or any woman of nearly thirteen summers, this was a brave and bold step. She would try this shameful thing. She would be scorned for a time, but in the lodge of Redpipe and Grasshopper there would be understanding and solace.

Her first sound was barely audible, and her knees shook; then a shrill roar from deep within her chest came with such a shattering explosion that the men sat with their eyes popping out as she found her voice.

“My father, Redpipe, is ill. Are you cowards? My father’s friend, Chief Four Bears, is held down. Are you no braver than weak squaws crawling in the sage, or dying coyotes with their heads in holes? It takes no bravery to give me to a man who is the winner in a game of hands. You are no more than rabbits, a nationof magpies with broken wings. If the fur-faced one wants a woman, why don’t you let him find one for himself— one who is willing to sleep with a furry buffalo.”

There was some sniggering, and Charbonneau sat stock-still, his mouth open, listening to the Minnetaree words of this bold young girl. If someone had told him that an Indian female had that many words in her head, he would not have believed it.

“Since a child, I was promised to a great Shoshoni warrior with no hair to speak of, except on his head, where the Great Spirit intended man’s hair should be. This great warrior gave many horses for me. The man who takes me as his woman should pay much to my Minnetaree family. I cook, sew, and clean, and keep a neat lodge. I do not speak out much.”

Most of the men roared and guffawed and slapped each other on the back, as though she had told some great joke.

“God almighty!” Charbonneau said in disbelief; he had lowered his knife.

Kakoakis’s face was contorted with anger, but Sacajawea saw that she had aroused some of the men to her side; Four Bears and the Wolf Chief were now talking with three other men close to the place where Red-pipe rested in a pool of his own urine. His fine leggings were stained and the paint on his chest smeared. No one stopped Sacajawea as she moved toward Redpipe. His words were incoherent. He was speaking in the world of spirits. His breathing was stertorous. Someone had placed a heavy buffalo paunch filled with water nearby.

“I will get him out of here,” Four Bears said. The men made a move to help.

“No!” said the Wolf Chief. “This man who speaks with spirits could bring us a message—perhaps the spirits will tell what should be done with the overbold young squaw.”

“It is settled!” Charbonneau said. “What should be done is to start the game.”

“It is not settled,” Sacajawea said. “Perhaps the spirits will be angered by the thought of men arguing about a woman when the worthy Redpipe is left to lie on the ground!”

Jussome snorted. “She is the right age for you, but her tongue is like a knife,” he said to Charbonneau.

“She is full of fire. She is what I want. I am going to be the man to tame the Girl That Loved a Dog.”

Jussome perked up. “Are you saying that she is the Dog Girl?”

“Yes, that is her, right there. I saw her with the Hidatsas.”

“When did you see her with the Hidatsas? Where?” Jussome asked.

“I saw her in the spring gathering rotten buffalo. I saw her with the dog.”

“You mean
she
is the Dog Girl?” the Wolf Chief exclaimed.