Conquering Horse (38 page)

“You will forget and he will see.” She sighed. “It is a sad thing.”

He remounted the sorrel. “Woman, the gods have decided what is to be done. Let us not speak of it any more.”

They rode in dignity toward the camp. The white stud colt gamboled around them, its necklace gingling on each leap.

When they were yet some distance away, the people began to stream out toward them, first the children, then the young maidens, then the stalking guards. The old men, smoking on the nearby red rocks, slowly got to their feet, while the old women, looking wonderingly, gathered in the doorways of their tepees.

No Name held his head high, looking from side to side in triumph. The golden sunset struck his high cheekbones a warm glancing blow. Leaf rode demurely behind him, with an occasional flash of eye to either side to see if the people properly appreciated their miraculous return.

The maidens and the guards laughed and cried. They sang songs. They danced. They cried out the names of No Name and Leaf again and again. The children raced around the two walking horses and the pacing white colt like swift swallows. There
was a great tumult of shouting and rejoicing and a rising of thick red dust. All held out their hands to No Name and Leaf. Yet no one touched them. The people were full of marveling and, in awe, kept a proper distance.

The triumphant procession had hardly passed in through the horns of the camp, when the maiden named Pretty Walker came weeping around the side of a tepee. She had seen both Leaf and the baby and knew what their coming meant. She cried out at No Name in a piercing voice, “I have waited! Let me hear your new song!”

No Name’s eyes slowly hardened over.

“I have waited,” Pretty Walker cried again. “Where is he who said he would come?”

No Name guided his horse over to where she stood. He looked down at her sternly. “Are you angry that a Yankton woman who was once lost is now found? Also, the day will soon come when I shall become known as a great chief and a lucky hunter. My lodge shall be known as one belonging to a generous feastmaker, who has mercy on the hungry and the helpless. I shall have need of more than one wife. Therefore, woman, wait as before. I shall come. Do not always act as one who resembles a hurt puppy.”

Pretty Walker hid her face in her hands. Then with a quick, almost violent motion, she whirled around and disappeared into her mother’s tepee.

When No Name looked back, he caught Leaf looking at him with angry flashing eyes. He stiffened, almost haughtily, and said, “Woman, put away your jealousy. I spoke to Pretty Walker the day I left, when it was thought by all that you were dead.”

The people continued to rejoice and dance around them, singing, calling out their names. Some of the young men came running with a belly drum and began to beat out impromptu songs.

The loud drumming frightened the colt. It ran close against Leaf and the dun mare, stepping high and quick, its blue eyes dilated, its little red plume of a tail lifted.

Out of a further tepee popped first an old woman, then an old
man. Both looked as if awakened from a long sleep. Their eyes fell upon the triumphant figure of No Name, then upon Leaf behind him, then upon the baby in its cradle on the travois. Slowly their eyes widened to large white circles. Then both clapped hand to mouth.

Leaf saw them. “My father, my mother,” she cried, “look, I return!” Then Leaf’s face broke and her eyes closed over. Her lips twisted.

Owl Above and Full Kettle came running on old knees. They touched the hem of their daughter’s tunic, weeping, laughing.

Between gasps, Leaf cried, “See my son, see my husband!”

“We see them, our daughter, we see them,” they cried, and fell against her leg.

No Name held himself in check. It was not a good thing for a son-in-law to look too closely upon the faces of his in-laws.

Then Circling Hawk stepped out of the soldiers’ lodge in the middle of the camp. He came stalking toward No Name, a large hearty smile on his rough face. “Ho, I see you return with a blackened face, friend.”

“Ho, and I see that you have kept camp well, brother. There is not a face missing.”

“Have you a song for us to sing?” the maidens around them cried.

No Name smiled. “I will sing it at the proper time.”

“Give it to us now. We wish to sing.”

No Name smiled again. “I have not thought much upon it.”

“Sing us a song,” they cried. “Have you not done a great thing?”

Still smiling, he reined in some and sang in step with his horse. He began each stanza on a high note and slowly let the melody drift down.

The young singers at the belly drum, holding a hand to the side of the mouth, repeated it after him loud and full. The young braves bounded, the maidens hop-danced, the children swirled underfoot, the old men shuffled stiffly beside the red rocks, and the old women sang in falling quavering accents. Again the rising dust of wild tumult filled the center of the village.

No Name looked ahead to Moon Dreamer’s lodge. The door was lashed shut. No Name’s face fell. The closed door meant that his uncle was not going to rejoice on his safe return until after all of the vision had been fulfilled.

No Name next looked ahead to his father’s tepee. His heart leaped up. His father and mother were waiting at the door. No Name’s face slowly became grave with duty. And forgetting, he let his warclub dangle from his wrist in full view of his father.

His father looked at him, then at Leaf, then at the two horses, finally at the skittish white colt.

No Name saw that his father had aged greatly. The nipples of his chest hung slack, his arms hung crooked, and a wrinkled gathering of old skin puffed out at the elbows.

No Name reined in his horse and stepped down. Before he could defend himself, his old mother Star That Does Not Move rushed up and, crying, ran her fingers over his face as one who was blind. Tears coursed down her old smoked cheeks.

No Name suffered her. He stood very still.

At last his mother broke off, and still crying, without saying
anything, she took the reins from his hand and led his sorrel away.

Loves Roots next stepped out of the tepee. Loves Roots looked at No Name, choked back a cry, made a move as if to touch him, then went to help Leaf with the baby and the dun mare and the white colt.

Left alone, father and son looked at each other with eyes full of delicate questioning. Then, just as their dark faces were about to break, they fell upon each other’s shoulder in love and embraced each other.

No Name was the first to withdraw. He held his father fondly by the elbows a moment, then let him go and stepped into the tepee.

Son and father sat by the fire, the son in the place of the guest of honor, the father against his willow back-rest. Both began to pick up tiny twigs and one by one to throw them into the fire. The flames brightened, and lighted their faces clearly, the son’s blackened one and the father’s gray-tinged one.

Star bustled in. She took off No Name’s moccasins, rubbed the soles of his feet, then slipped on a new pair of moccasins. She set a pot of meat and dried plums to warm near the fire. A moment later Leaf and the baby and Loves Roots came in. The two women made themselves busy on the woman’s side.

Presently the food was warm enough and Star filled two wooden bowls and handed them to father and son. Redbird waited politely until his son was almost finished before he began.

After the bowls were removed, Redbird prepared some tobacco on his cutting board. He filled his red pipe in quiet ceremony. After he had it going properly, and had held it out to the great directions, he handed the pipe across to No Name. Calmly, wordless, the two men took turns puffing. Star and Loves Roots and Leaf rustled in the shadows behind them. The women waited.

Redbird puffed the pipe a last time, then clapped out the ball of dead ashes in the palm of his hand and threw it in the fire.
Looking No Name clearly in the eye, he said, “My son, I see you have returned with a blackened face.”

No Name could not quite hold up to his father. “My father, I have been to a great distance. I have worn out many moccasins.”

“Tell me, at what place have you stood and seen the good?”

“In all the places you told me of before I left. Beside the River That Sinks. Beside the River of Little Ducks. Also, I saw the sacred stones. They were two and they were painted red.”

“Ai,” his father cried, starting back, “did they show you the true path?”

“Ae, they did. I was very happy.”

No Name then told of his long journey in detail. His father listened with parted mouth, lips moving as if he already knew the words before No Name spoke them.

As he talked, No Name was keenly aware of Leaf listening behind him with the other two women. Leaf would be wondering if he would again withhold from his father the last part of the vision. Well, now that he was home again, sitting before his father face to face, he found he still loved his father too much to hurt him in his old age. So yet again he would withhold it.

When No Name finished the telling, there was a long silence, broken only by the sighs of Star and Loves Roots.

No Name dropped another little stick into the fire. After a moment the heat of the fire caught hold of the stick and it burst into flame. He watched the new flame for a time, then threw a quick look at his father to see how he had taken it.

His father sat impassive, also musing at the new flame. There was no hint, neither in the expression around his eyes nor on his wide lips, that he did not accept the recital as the full truth.

No Name just barely managed to keep the trembles out of his fingers.

The door flap parted and an old man known as Shakes His Spear pushed in, his brown wrinkled face covered with a fawning smile. Shakes His Spear shuffled up to No Name, nudged him,
and in a low whisper urged him to let him announce his deed of valor to the village.

No Name shook his head gently yet firmly. He felt sorry for the old man. Shakes His Spear had outlived his usefulness as warrior and provider, and now in his old age tried to get returning warriors to let him tell the news. Everyone knew that in return for the telling the old man expected the present of some food or a new blanket.

“The people wait,” Shakes His Spear said. “They wish to hear the news of the great things you have done. Also, they wish to dance the victory.”

“Later,” No Name said. “My father and I still have much to talk about.”

Shakes His Spear still tugged at him, filling his ear with flattery. “You have overcome a great enemy. You have been a very brave one. The people wish to know of this. They wish to know how and where each wound was given and received.”

“My father and I still wish to talk. Go. Later we will call the herald.”

“The people wish to celebrate the glory. It is theirs to know. What you have done belongs to them.”

No Name shook off the old man’s touch again. “Later. Go.”

“Already some of the young braves laugh and say that you have chased a ghost stallion seen in a boy’s dream.”

“Go.”

“They also laugh and wonder at this white colt you have brought home. They wonder why he should be considered a great horse.”

“Ho, would they mock at the wishes of the gods?”

“Ahh, it is only a manner of saying by the young men.”

Redbird finally raised his eyes. “When my son and I have finished talking together, I will call Thunder Close By to tell of it.” Then Redbird smiled, and added kindly, “It is a chief’s son who has returned. Therefore it must fall to the camp herald to tell of it. But do not fear. There will be many gifts and you will
be among those who shall receive. I have heard your words of praise for my son, and they are good. Tell the people a feast is being prepared. Let everybody paint up, cook meat, cut tobacco, and get ready for a big dance.”

“Thank you, thank you,” old Shakes His Spear cried.

“Also, inform the old men and the chiefs of the warrior societies to gather in the soldiers’ lodge that they may examine my son closely as to his deed of valor as well as to the second part of his vision. This is to be done before the feast and the dance. It is time that my son wore an honor feather. Also that he be given a new name.”

“Hi-ye, thank you, thank you.” Shakes His Spear placed his hands on No Name’s head and shed tears over him a moment. Then he scuttled for the door and disappeared.

There was a whispering outside in the dusk, then gradually a hum of excited voices rose on the evening air.

Redbird listened to the happy sounds outside, then, again lifting his old eyes, looked across the lodge at Star. “Woman,” he said gently, “where is the meat for the feast? My son has returned in glory.”

Without a word, Star and Loves Roots stepped outdoors. They called up the dogs. There was some scuffling, then some cringing and whimpering, then some crushing blows on skulls. Soon four fat dogs were in the pot and cooking.

Smiling gently, yet carefully avoiding a direct look at Leaf, Redbird said, “My son, I am glad that you have brought home a good wife. Where is my grandson? I wish to see him.”

There was a low cry of pleasure from Leaf. She took the baby from its cradle and handed it over to No Name. Leaf had been waiting for this moment ever since their arrival and had cleaned the baby carefully, repacking its buttocks with fresh milkweed down and scenting it with the juice of the orange lily. No Name fondled the baby a moment, smiled at it, and then handed it around the fire to Redbird.

Redbird looked down at the baby a long time. The baby in
turn blinked up at him, its black eyes for once holding steady on one spot.

At last Redbird smiled. With his thumb and forefinger, playfully, he gave the baby’s nose a tweak. “Little one, this is done so that your nose may be made to grow long before it is hard.”