Conquering Horse (17 page)

He watched. A wise and knowing smile curved his lips. “She is the mother of all the living and I wish to see her.”

Suddenly he saw a white mare coming toward him, trotting lightly, shaking her curly mane, whisking her long tail. She was so glistening white he could not look directly at her. She was whiter than sun on snow on a bright winter morning. Also a halo of whiteness hovered about her. The whiteness cast a dazzling sheen on all things near her, the rocks, the rosebushes, the silver sage. She was a holy being, a great and mysterious one, incomprehensible, wakan. She neighed lightly. Gaily she lifted
her tail. Watching her closely he saw she had reddish lips and blue eyes. She smiled at him in a secret way.

The hair on his head stiffened. His heart jumped wildly.

The white mare stood over him. Holding her head to one side, she looked down at him. “Are you afraid, my son?”

The moment he heard her voice he felt calm. “I no longer fear.”

She smiled. “Why are you here, my son?”

“I have come to fast.”

“And why do you fast?”

“To know life and gain strength.”

“Your body is very weak.”

“I know this. But that standing within me which speaks to me has become strong.”

“It is good. What would you do?”

“I wish to know my guardian spirit. Where is he? I wish to do a great thing for my people. If I can do this perhaps I shall be known.”

“It is good. It shall be given to you in time. You shall be a great man. Your people shall be as numerous as the leaves of the rustling tree.”

“When will this be?”

“Will you listen to my words?”

“Your words shall be scarred on my heart.”

“Your helper shall be a certain white stallion. He will help you. He will be the new medicine your horse breeders need. He will give your people many spotted colts.”

“Where is he?”

“Listen carefully, my son. There is much for you to remember. First, you must take a long trail alone, on foot, to the River That Sinks. It is to the south where the Pawnees live. There it will be told you where the white stallion lives.”

“Alone? On foot? I will be afraid.”

“It will be given to you to be brave.”

“Where will I get the meat? Who will make my clothes? Where will I sleep?”

The glowing white mare smiled down on him indulgently. She shook her head up and down. Bluish fire sparked out of her threshing mane. “Meat and clothes and a place to sleep will be given to you also. Have courage. Be patient unto the day.”

“Your words fall on my heart and I will never forget them.”

“The white stallion will be very wild and fierce. But after a time you will conquer him. After you have caught him, cut off a piece of the scarlet mane between his eyes, that place where all can be seen by the horse, and place it in a square leather case. This scarlet plume you must put away until your return to the village. After your return, bring the scarlet plume to your intercessor and ask him to perform the proper ceremony over it. Your intercessor will divide the plume into two parts, making twists of them. One twist is to be worn in your hair as your fetish, the other twist is to be hung on your tripod as your medicine. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you, great one.”

“In the meantime, to help you catch the stallion, your intercessor will give you a horse chestnut, chat strange piece of grayish black gristle growing on the inside of a horse’s leg. It is to be your substitute fetish. Your intercessor will tell you to wear it inside the fat braid that hangs behind your left ear so that it may speak quickly to you in time of trouble and advise you. Later, the horse chestnut is to be replaced by the scarlet plume. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you, white one.”

“As long as you keep the two twists of the scarlet plume safe, you shall always prevail. With them in your possession you will grow to be an old man without ever becoming feeble or racked with the pains of old age. You will desire maidens until the day you die.”

“Then it will be as it is with my father Redbird.”

At that the glowing white mare looked down at him oddly, and fell silent.

“What is it? What have I done?”

“My son, the gods do not wish to hear much said on some things. Wait until I have finished telling you all of the message.”

“I throw myself on my face on the ground.”

The white mare stepped over him with her white front hooves and then leaned down her belly as if to give him suck like a colt. “My son, did you not promise Wakantanka a scarlet blanket?”

“I promised, O great sacred white one.”

“It is good. The first part of the vision has now been told you. The second part will be told you after you have given me the scarlet blanket.”

“My flesh is very weak. Shall I wait to give the scarlet blanket until the Moon of Fat Horses when the others give themselves in torment in the village sun dance?”

“You must give the scarlet blanket immediately, and alone, when you return to the village. You will not be able to use the power of the vision until after you have performed the sun dance for the people to see. Also, I want the people to see this thing very soon so that they may receive courage therefrom and have the glory of it before summer comes.”

“I will return immediately to my father Redbird. He will help me.”

Again the white mare looked down at him strangely. “Moon Dreamer will help you. He will be your intercessor.”

“When shall I be given my name? To be free one must have a name.”

“It will be given you after you have returned from conquering the white stallion. Remember this, my son: life is a simple thing when once it is accepted wholly.”

The white mare looked down on him in a sweet way, her red lips smiling tenderly. Then, throwing up her white head,
her long glossy tail whisking bluish fire, she slowly walked away from him toward the west. Flakes of white like crystal chalk floated in the air after her passage. When she came to the edge of the rimrock she did not stop, but walked on, stepping stolidly and firmly on air. Gradually she faded away until she became a white star on the western horizon.

He was being shaken, gently. He opened his eyes. He saw Circling Hawk bending over him.

“Have you had the vision?” Circling Hawk asked.

“It has come.”

“Have you received your name?”

“It will be given to me after I have returned from conquering a certain wild stallion.”

“It is good. Now we will return to our mothers.”

Circling Hawk took him up and carried him down from the mountain top. He gave him warm soup and some corn and cool sweet water. He placed him on a thick bed of sweetgrass and covered him with a white robe. He let him sleep in warmth for a long time. When No Name’s strength returned some, they began the long journey home.

7

Toward evening, about an hour’s ride from camp, Circling Hawk spotted lookouts on the bluffs above the Yankton village. He immediately rode up on a small knoll so that the lookouts could see him clearly against the horizon. He made his horse Dusty go through a series of quick-stepping maneuvers to signify that he and No Name were friends and that No Name had survived the fast on the mountain. At that the lookouts signaled for them to approach. The camp awaited them.

Circling Hawk rode beside No Name. “Shall we paint our horses and prepare our faces?”

“I did not receive the full vision. The second part is yet to come. The gods will not like it if we rejoice too soon.”

“My brother, it shall be as you say.”

The two horses sensed they were near home. They neighed, and threw up their manes and tails, and ran eagerly against tight reins. The trail ropes dragging behind raised low racing snakes of dust.

When No Name saw again the tepees of his people in the valley below, the camp still set in a neat circle like a curved row of catfish teeth, his heart leaped. He wept when he finally made out his father’s dark thunder-painted lodge. He cried when he saw the single cottonwood still towering over the lodge where Leaf had once lived.

No Name led the way through the horns of the village, holding his pipe before him. The sun was just down. All the people came out to greet him. Happy black eyes flashed him welcome smiles.

A comely round-faced maiden named Pretty Walker called out, “Have you any new songs?”

No Name shook his head, slowly.

Pretty Walker smiled. “We wish to sing.”

No Name smiled too, a little. “Perhaps I will have a song for you tomorrow.”

Then Soft Berry came waddling through the crowd. She grabbed hold of the bridle of her son’s horse. “Well, my son, and how did it go with you?”

“We have been around on a long journey, my mother, and have now come home.”

“Good. The pot is full of meat. Step down. There is rest and a cake of corn for you in your accustomed place.”

Still holding his red pipe before him, No Name rode straight for his father’s lodge. He saw Redbird standing in the doorway, looking at him with grave impassive eyes. No Name slid to the ground, and handing his horse over to Loves Roots, went immediately inside. He sat in his own place before the fire, across from his father. His mother Star That Does Not Move took off his moccasins and rubbed the soles of his feet. She set warm food and drink before him. He ate ravenously.

Star kept to the shadows. Occasionally she flashed him a wondering searching look. Loves Roots also kept in the background on the woman’s side. Her mobile lips remained properly sober.

Redbird got out the pipe as soon as No Name had finished eating. With grave dignity he filled it and lighted it with a
coal from the fire. He puffed until he had it going well, then handed it across to No Name.

The taste of his father’s wetness on the pipestem affected No Name deeply. He almost burst into tears.

Finally, after they finished smoking, Redbird asked, “My son, tell me, at what place have you stood and seen the good?”

“My father, I have been through an awful hour.”

“It makes my heart glad to see you again.”

“I have seen dark shades and white manes and strange ghosts.” “Did you fast and receive the vision, my son?”

“My father, a beautiful white mare came to me in dream. The white mare told me to catch a certain white stallion. I must go to the River That Sinks. There it will be told me where the stallion lives. The stallion will be very wild and very fierce.”

Redbird started. “Ai, a wild white stallion will give us many spotted colts. It is the power of his wildness that will do this.”

“The white mare said that I must go alone.”

“Ai!” his father cried. The two women in the shadows gasped and clapped hand to mouth.

“My father, not all of the message was told me. The second part will be told me after I have given a scarlet blanket in a sun-watching dance. I must dance it alone. Also my name is to be given me after I have returned from catching the wild stallion.”

Redbird sat very straight. “When is this sun dance to be?”

“Tomorrow.”

Redbird sat in silence a while. Then he sighed and said quietly, “Well, my son, you must go through with it. Both the torment and the journey. I will help you prepare yourself for the sun dance.”

No Name looked down at his fingers. “My father, the white mare did not speak of you. Moon Dreamer is to be my intercessor.”

Redbird gave No Name an odd searching look. Then his black eyes closed to glimmering slits. He sat musing to himself,
looking at the low flickering fire. Shadows stirred behind him. Finally he said, “Let it be as the gods wish.”

The next morning No Name went back to fasting. He washed himself harshly in the streaming red rock pools above Falling Water. He purified himself in a vapor bath. He painted his face with white clay, the outline of a mare on his right cheek and the outline of a stallion on his left cheek.

Meanwhile Moon Dreamer instructed Thunder Close By, the crier, to announce to the camp that the son of Redbird wished to give a scarlet blanket to Wakantanka, that he would do so as a single votary, that Moon Dreamer himself had been sent a special dream on how to conduct the ceremony. The people were instructed to be kind to one another, to prepare gifts, to sing songs, to be happy and live right.

Putting on his buffalo-head mask and decorating himself with a single white feather, Moon Dreamer chose a level grassy place south of the encampment and beside the flowing red cascades. A double ring of cottonwood poles was put up about the grassy place in the shape of a round horseshoe, the open end to the east. Beams were then fasted to the tops of the poles, joining one ring with another, and willow branches were tossed up on the beams until a good green shade was made for the spectators. Moon Dreamer also set up a small leather tepee on the west side of the medicine lodge in which No Name was to wait with his pipe until the ceremony began.

For the sacred place, Moon Dreamer chose a spot in the center of the open grassy place. He removed everything that breathed or grew from a circle four steps wide. He next dug out a square to the depth of one finger. He cleansed the square with wild sage, painted a white cross in it, and sprinkled sweetgrass on a few live coals to one side of it. He set a ceremonial buffalo skull beside it.

He offered the sun dance pipe to the six powers, saying, “I smoke with Wakantanka so that he may give us a blue day.”
He puffed solemnly to himself with all eyes on him, finally placed the pipe against the buffalo skull. He also cleared a small square east of the sacred place, dug a round hole a yard deep in the center of it, filled the hole with freshly melted buffalo fat.

Selecting four of the young men, he sent them to the river’s edge to look for a sapling cottonwood. The young rustling tree was to be as straight as a lodge pole and had to be without blemish. The young men did as instructed and scouted for the tree as though looking for an enemy. When they found a certain slender cottonwood, they counted coup on it and then rushed to tell Moon Dreamer. They were welcomed back by the people with the joy and uproar usually given a victorious war party. They were fed meat dainties, and embraced with love, and cherished with deep marks of gratitude.