The Spirit Keeper (28 page)

Hector and the guards watched me for a time, ’til the guards got bored and started talking to each other. I noticed our canoe was there on the bank, along with the two large canoes we’d seen before and several smaller crafts. I wondered aloud if one of the big canoes belonged to the missing search party, and Hector said he believed it did—and the other must have come from the fishermen the search party had been looking for. Some of those men, he said, were no doubt amongst the captives; others might be tied to the stakes on the prairie.

Since the guards didn’t seem to care if we talked, Hector went on to say he remembered seeing animals at my family’s lodge—were some of those the same as this big dog?

“Yes,” I said, smiling. “But I call it a horse.” I used the English word, which, of course, meant nothing to Hector.

“Can you talk to it?” he asked, his eyes grave but hopeful.

I stopt braiding for a moment to stare at him. “Yes, but not in the way you think.”

Hector was puzzled. “What do you mean ‘not in the way you think’?”

I waggled my head as I braided. “I mean you do not understand what I mean.”

“How do you know what I understand? Can you hear my thoughts?” Hector looked at me, suddenly worried.

I tried not to sound superior as I said, “No one can do that, Hector.”

“
He
could.”

“Could he?” I glanced at my friend, considering. Could Syawa truly hear Hector’s thoughts, or did he simply deduce them, as I did? Either way, it was a handy trick to keep in mind. “Well, I have not yet mastered that skill. All I know is that when you say ‘talk to the animal’ and I say ‘talk to the animal,’ we mean two different things.”

“What do
you
mean?”

“I mean, ‘tell it what to do.’”

“That’s what I mean!”

“No, it’s not!” I insisted, frustrated. “Look, you mean you think I can talk to it the way I talk to you, like a conversation.”

Hector raised one eyebrow. “If you cannot hear my thoughts, then how do you know what I think?”

I stopt braiding and sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I cannot explain it to you. I do not have the words.”

“I just want to know if your magic can control the animal,” Hector said through clenched teeth.

I shrugged as I resumed braiding. “I think so. It depends. I’m sure I can control him better than that madman.” I explained to him about the halter I was making.

Hector nodded, staring down at the creek. Suddenly he looked at me in alarm. “You do not mean to sit on that animal, do you?”

I gave him an exasperated look. “Hector, stop worrying. For me, sitting on that animal is like swimming is for you.” I continued to braid, then grinned as I added, “Besides—what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I wish you would stop saying that,” he said, looking glum.

 • • •

We spent the night on the mat in the village center again. I was jerked awake early the next morning when Hector grabbed my arm, but before I could sit up, two guards pinned him to the ground whilst Three Bulls jumped on me and breathed into my face. “It is now tomorrow!” he gestured. “Give me my gift!”

Instantly terrified, I forced myself to inhale slowly as I racked my brain for a way to get the crazyman off me. I got an idea and gestured with trembling hands: “I was just dreaming about you.”

Three Bulls sat up, surprised. He had surely expected me to scream and struggle against him, not blithely begin a story. “What were you dreaming?” he gestured with a leer. “About becoming one of my wives?”

I started to gesture, then stopt. I made it clear that he was in my way, and if he wanted to know more of my dream, he would have to move.

He moved. I gestured that I saw him in the center of a large group of people. They were all shouting and waving their arms. There was much excitement, and then . . .

I acted as if I simply could not continue to gesture from my prone position, which caused him finally to get off me. Pleased that my little ruse worked, I sat up and gestured that in my dream the people ’round Three Bulls were angry, terribly angry. One of his most trusted friends—no, two of his best friends—turned against him. I stood up and repeated my gestures, turning slowly so that everyone watching—which was nigh the whole village—could see what I said. I gestured that when his friends encouraged the angry people to rebel, someone untied the captives, who joined in the fight. Someone threw a rock, which hit Three Bulls in the head. Then someone else threw a rock. Then another. And another. I described Three Bulls being buried beneath a rain of rocks as the people cheered. “And then you woke me up!” I gestured.

Three Bulls did not like this dream. He brushed it aside with his hand and once again demanded his gift.

“I cannot give a sacred gift ’til I have had food and water,” I gestured with a shrug, and he sighed and commanded his women to feed me.

The guards released Hector as soon as I finisht telling my “dream,” but when Three Bulls turned to yell at his two main guards, I knew my little invention was doing its job. I remembered how suspicious my brothers always were of their friends, e’er afraid those closest to them might betray them. It was a simple thing to sow the seeds of discord, especially in the fertile ground of a mad mind.

The women brought us food, cringing because they were as afraid of me as of their leader. I nibbled what they brought, then gestured that what I really wanted was green corn, like the stuff they gave us during the feast. They said they would cook some, but I said no—I preferred it raw and in the husk. Exchanging surprised glances, they scurried to bring me three good ears, which I promptly tucked inside my pack. The women exchanged another glance, but were too timid to question me. I explained to Hector why I wanted the corn, and he nodded unhappily.

I’m sure he wanted to argue some more about my plan, but we could scarce speak because by this time Three Bulls was loudly berating the two warriors who had been guarding us. One of the guards clearly resented whate’er Three Bulls was saying. The other was denying whate’er he was being accused of. I smiled at Hector, but he was too preoccupied with worry to smile back.

As soon as we had eaten, we all tromped out to the prairie. The horse was led to me like a big dog, but e’en before I could unwind the reins I carried under my arm, he was nuzzling my pack because he could smell the corn inside. I cooed as I dug out an ear and peeled back the husk to let him nibble on the kernels. The entire populace watched with great interest.

Now that I had the horse’s attention, I slipt my pack behind my back and held up the halter. The horse lifted his ears and sniffed the contraption suspiciously, but decided it posed no danger. He went back to nibbling the corn.

This would be the tricky part. I asked Hector to come hold the corn. He was not eager to have his fingers so close to the animal’s huge teeth, but I believe if had I told him to go lie down in the fire and chew on the flames, he would have done so without question or a murmur of complaint. With the corn thus distracting the horse, I was able to slip the headgear o’er his nose. When the horse pulled back and whinnied, I purred soothing words both to him and to Hector, who had also pulled back. Reassured, the horse soon came back for more corn.

I gestured to the warrior holding the leash-rope that he must link his fingers to give me a boost. He looked to Three Bulls, who nodded, and up I went.

Several things happened at the exact same moment. The horse snorted and reared, Hector fell backwards, the crowd gasped and jumped, the man with the leash dropt it, and I pulled the reins to turn the horse’s head toward the prairie. The horse ran and I held on for dear life.

What a beautiful animal! I let him have his head ’til I was sure I could keep my seat, then gently directed the way he ran. As I suspected, he had surely been trained, for the slightest touch of rein caused him to veer right or left. I swear he appreciated having a rider who did not bounce up and down, yanking at his mane. I urged him on ’til I almost couldn’t see Three Bulls’s village, then let him walk whilst I untied the rope ’round his neck and threw it away.

A thought occurred. I could turn the horse east and ride, and no Indian would e’er be able to stop me. I raised myself up and gazed ’round at the distant horizon. Everywhere I looked was wide-open prairie, rolling out in all directions ’til it fell off the edge of the earth. I could go anywhere, do anything, and I thought to myself, “This is it—this is what freedom feels like!”

Oh, it was sweet.

But then I remembered Hector and all I owed him, and I remembered how worried he was about me, and I remembered how Syawa told me I ne’er really had a choice, and I remembered seeing Hector fall backwards when the horse reared. What if he was hurt?

I turned the horse and nudged it to a full gallop again. I leant forward ’til we neared the clearing, at which point I sat up to slow the horse to a walk. I was relieved to see Hector standing in no apparent distress, watching my approach with his usual face of stone. Just to show what I could do, I made the horse trot ’round the crowd, weaving in and out between Three Bulls, Hector, and the guards. I stopt him and sat smiling down at Three Bulls.

The lunatic wasn’t exactly happy. He clearly resented having anyone get attention besides himself, and now that he could see how easy it was to control the horse with the headgear, he didn’t consider my gift much of a gift at all. Still, when I slid off the horse and handed him the reins, he took them and began speaking to his men.

I walked to Hector, sure Three Bulls would want to ride the horse, but suddenly he was beside me again, grabbing my upper arm with one hand whilst gesturing with the other: “In exchange for this gift you give me, my gift to you is that your Guardian is free to go. But you must stay. I have no Holyman in my camp and require the one you keep.” He dismissed Hector with a wave of his hand.

As two guards shoved Hector backwards, he gestured wildly he would not leave without me.

“If you will not leave without her,” Three Bulls gestured with a smile, “then you will not leave at all.” He nodded to the guards, who grabbed Hector, one on each arm, and began dragging him toward the rotting corpses.

That was when I noticed a new set of stakes had been set out, awaiting a new victim.

 • • •

I have been in many fistfights in my life. I won some and lost more, but I learnt a lot from every fight I’ve been in. The biggest fight I remember was shortly after we’d moved to Philadelphia and my brother Thomas took offense at the way a neighboring family of London scumrats kept calling us “Taigs.” Thomas rallied the O’Toole clan and friends, and we fought hard, we fought dirty, we fought with everything we had. We fought for the pure fun of letting our frustrations and rage run free.

I was probably ten at the time, as thick in the action as any of the two dozen or more children rolling in the street. I punched, kicked, scratched, pulled hair, bit, gouged, and used all the same tactics that had e’er been used against me by the very brothers and sisters alongside whom I was now fighting. I don’t remember if we won that particular fight or not, but I do remember the camaraderie I felt as we nursed our wounds and recounted the highlights of battle. And I remember that no one on that street e’er called us “Taigs” again.

So when the guards began dragging Hector away, I didn’t hesitate. I pulled my free arm back and punched Three Bulls full in the nose, feeling the satisfying
crunch
and
splat
of my fist in his face before he fell backwards like a sack of apples falling off a cart. In less time than it takes to blink, I stomped on his groin with my heel, and when he rolled into a ball, I reached down to yank the French hatchet from his waistband.

When Three Bulls went down, Hector broke free from his distracted captors and pushed them both to the ground as he grabbed a metal knife from one of them. By that time, I was swinging the hatchet at every man who approacht. Hector slashed his way toward me, but someone grabbed him from behind and he became involved in a wrestling match with first one, then two, then three of the warriors. When I saw them piling on, I began hacking my way to him, but two men tried to grab my arm, and I ducked down and chopt off their toes—three small ones here, a great one there. As those men crumpled, I dove forward and hacked at the backs of the legs of the men atop Hector. Two rolled off, clutching their gushing calves, which left only one for Hector to worry about. He and his opponent were flopping too wildly for me to get a clean hit in, so I rolled and jumped to my feet.

By this time Three Bulls had recovered enough to be shouting orders in spite of his broken nose, tho’ he was still on his hands and knees, with one of his men trying to help him rise. I ran o’er and kicked him hard in the temple, which shut him up once and for all, but his assistant grabbed my kicking foot and yanked me backwards. E’en as I hit the ground I swung at the man’s knee, desperate to keep him from falling on me, but he dived for the hatchet, enabling me to roll to my side and kick him in the kidney. I still would’ve lost the hatchet to him had not someone come up from behind to hit him o’er the head with a big rock. When my assailant toppled, I gaped up at the grinning fellow who saved me, recognizing him as one of the captives. I looked ’round and saw all the captives were loose now, fighting Three Bulls’s warriors. It had become a complete melee.

I jumped up and for a time hacked and smacked at random, leaving a path of destruction in my wake ’til someone finally managed to grab the wrist of my hand that held the hatchet. Just as I was about to bite the restraining fingers, I discovered they belonged to Hector. His face was pale and he was breathing hard, but, except for a few cuts and bruises, he was unharmed. “We must go now,” he said as he pulled me from the fray.

Some of Three Bulls’s men were bleeding on the ground, some had fled, and the ones left standing were fully occupied with vengeful captives. Hector had left the metal knife in the chest of the warrior who had his stone knife, which he was now carrying. As we ran to the creek, I saw the sharp stone blade was again red with blood.