Fair Land, Fair Land (18 page)

"
We are too many for your lodge, brother,"
Summers said. "We have lodges. All right to set them up next to
yours?"

"
Where you want. Me, I say the camp is yours."
He rose to his feet, his legs stiff and awkward with age. "Come.
We smoke."

Inside the lodge, where a small fire was taking hold,
White Hawk loaded the pipe, lit it with a twig from the fire, pointed
it in the four directions and passed it to Summers, who puffed and
handed the pipe to Higgins.

"
You hunt the buffalo still? Across the
mountains?" Summers asked.

White Hawk bent his head. His voice was low. "For
these moons I think no. It is bad. Bad medicine last hunt."

Summers kept silent, sure the chief would go on.

"
My son." He rubbed the fingers of one hand
in the palm of the other. "He is with me no more."

"
He fight?"

"
His horse stumble and fall in the hunt. Buffalo
pound him."
 
"
My heart is
sad for you," Summers said, noting how much English the chief
had picked up.

"
His woman I take into my lodge. His little
squaw, too."

"
His daughter?"

"
My — what you say?"

"
Granddaughter."

The chief made the sign for yes, bowing his body as
well as his head.

"
By the fire I see her?"

Again the chief signed a yes.

"You have learned much white man's talk."

"
By the Bear. By the trail. They come. Many
come, and I talk. Has the white man no hunting ground from where he
come? How many is he?"

"
Like the blades of grass. Like the leaves on
the trees. They come to shoot. No buffalo on their range. They come
to plow. The new soil in Oregon, it is better."

The chief sighed a sort of spent sigh, then
straightened and asked, "Why you come?"

"
To see my brother."

"
That is good. That is all?"

Summers turned a thumb toward Higgins. "Here is
a good man. They call him Friend of the Great Bear. He has no woman."

"
Say to him he will have one. I make sure."

"Not that way, my brother. A wife he wants. One
to keep. He is not rough man, but kind."

For a long moment Chief White Hawk studied Higgins,
who shifted under his stare. "He is too old. Old. No teeth."

"
Not too old." Summers figured, knowing
Higgins, that it was fair to lie. "He take tomahawk in the
mouth. A Sioux it was. He killed the Sioux, Higgins did."

"
And his mouth broken?"

"
Yes. Broken mouth and all."

"
What woman he want?" the chief asked,
looking with more favor at Higgins.

"
He does not say yet. He is just come. But I see
many young women in camp."

The chief sat as if heavy with thought. "Our
women good, no?"

"
It is true. Good-looking women. Good wives, I
say."

"
I will think."

Now Summers dared to say, "That one I saw and
think how pretty, there by your fire."

"
Little Wing. Granddaughter?"

"
If she has no man, I say to you, Higgins is a
good man, he is. He not be cruel like some. He be kind."

The chief smoked and looked at the wall of the lodge
as if into distance. What went on in his head didn't show in his
face. At last he said, "We are poor."

"
You know the yellow metal?"

"
Paleface, he love it. I know."

Summers held out the last three pieces of gold he had
earned as a guide. "For a wife?"

"
It is not horses."

"
It buy horses. It buy eight, ten, twelve. That
is enough, yes, my brother?"

For a long time White Hawk gazed into the bed of
coals that had been a fire. He tossed a stick on them. "It is
true. My Little Wing has no man. Many want her, but they have not the
horses. I will ask her, but if she say no?"

"
I will ask my friend, too. I do not know how he
feels."

White Hawk let a little smile come on his face. "No
man say no to her."

After they had left the lodge, Higgins asked, "Now
what in the hell was that all about? I just catched a word now and
then."

"
I was dickerin' for a wife for you."

"
Just any old wife, huh? Just anything?"

"
You seen her."

"
Who? Where?"

"
That pretty filly by the campfire, that one
with the two older women."

"
Jesus Christ! She wouldn't go for the likes of
me."

"
Women don't have much say in this business. The
father or grandfather or brother decides, dependin' on how many
horses he gets."

Higgins stopped Summers in his tracks. "I won't
have it, by God! She has to be willin', more'n willin', or it's no go
with me. Got that?"

"Simmer down. We got Teal Eye to make sure. You
just play your fiddle and sing."

23

HE CAMP came alive early. Squaws were bringing in I
wood, building fires, filling pots and kettles while children played.
Their voices sounded in steady, good-natured chatter. Mostly the men
sat at the flaps of the tepees, doing nothing but wait.

"
The bucks sure got it easy," Higgins said
to Summers. "Like as if it would hurt them to do some of the
chores."

Higgins had gathered wood for Teal Eye while the men
watched, their faces showing so little that they showed much.

A man doing squaw's work! Summers had seen to the
horses and fetched water. Now Teal Eye was tending a pot. The boys
were in back of her, Lije holding to Nocansee's hand. It had been
Teal Eye's doing that they had their own fire and fixed their own
food. "We come to visit, yes," she had said. "But not
to sit and eat their meat."

Higgins was watching the chief's fire and the girl
who busied herself there. He said, "It won't work."

"
What?" Summers asked, knowing the answer.

"
Me'n her, that's what. Damned if I push."

"
Who's askin' you to? We got Teal Eye."

"
I tell her about you," Teal Eye said to
Higgins. "I find out."

"
Why the all-fired hurry? Could be I won't like
her."

"
Could be," Teal Eye answered, making a
grave face.

The night chill was easing off as the day lightened.
Soon the sun would be up. On the hillside the horses were frisking,
running and kicking up to get the kinks out or to welcome the light.

"
I'm puttin' you on for tonight," Summers
said.

"
Who said you could?"

"
For fiddle music and singin'."

"
Jesus Christ! I got no say, huh?"

"
Nope."

Higgins shook his head, saying, "I just might
get balky."

"
Cheer up. After we've et, we go huntin'."

"
They do their own huntin'."

"
Yep. But not a rifle in camp. just a few old
smoothbores that ain't accurate for more'n three or four jumps. Them
and bows and arrers."

"
We all the same as camp hunters?"

"
It don't hurt to bring in meat. I'm bettin' the
hunters will stick in camp, waitin' to see how we come out."

They ate and went to bring in their horses — two
for saddles and three for packs. Hobbled, the horses weren't hard to
catch. Back in camp, they threw on the saddles. Summers said to Teal
Eye, "Back before you know it, back with much meat."

She gave him the smile she smiled for him alone and
came forward and touched his arm. "I wait for you. All the
time."

They mounted, rifles held crosswise in front of them.
Passing White Hawk in front of his lodge, Summers said, "We kill
meat. What your mouth say?"

"
It is long time since sheep. Long time since
bighorn. Maybe you find one. My hunters have hard time. Far for the
arrow."

Little Wing came from the lodge. She threw a look at
Higgins, who sat stiff as a stick, holding his rifle.

They rode out of the valley into the hills, Summers
saying,

"Sheep he wants. Sheep in this country. I don't
know. Plenty elk and deer, though."

They followed a game trail, winding uphill. The
horses, not pushed, snatched for wild berries and the crowns of bull
thistles. The sun, barely up, was at their backs, the breeze in their
faces. Overhead the sky was deep, but a man couldn't see its far
rims, not with hills and trees closing them off.

"Hell of a place to hunt," Higgins said.
"Brush and stuff all around, and any game, spottin' us, be lost
to sight before we could aim."

"Game trails lead to somethin', to a lick or an
open meadow. That's where they're like to be."
"
Or
lyin' up somewheres, their bellies full."

"
You're as cheerful as a hell's fire preacher.
Buck up. Fine day today."

No use, Summers thought. Higgins' lips were set in a
tight, crooked line.

Through the trees Summers caught a glimpse of a
clearing.

"
Let's tie up. Goin' afoot is the ticket now,
I"m thinkin'."

It was as he had figured, a small park in the trees
with a pool of water close to its middle. They approached, stooping,
and lay down at the edge.

The meadow was green, with hardly a bush in it, only
grass and more grass, spotted here and there with a flower of some
kind. Nothing moved in it except for a crowned jay, dark blue, that
flew over it and perched in a pine. Nothing moved but little
butterflies, mosquitoes and a swarm of gnats. There was the voice of
silence, the far thrum that sounded deep in the ear.

"
It ain't a good time of day," Higgins
said.

"Who knows, savin' the critters themselves?"

They waited while the sun rose higher. It didn't have
much heat in it yet. Summers chewed on a grass stem. Half of hunting
was waiting. Higgins had put his head on his arms. He might be
sleeping.

The mosquitoes buzzed thick. They didn't bother
Summers much. His skin was too old and leathery, he figured. He
waited, unmoving, his Hawken lying in front of him. His eyes hunted
for movement. Sure to God there was game around here. Elk and deer at
the least. He had seen their tracks on the trail. Mountain sheep
maybe. Across the divide they were plenty enough, and mountain men,
froze for good meat when buffalo were scarce, had found sheep tasty
and good in the belly.

On a ridge beyond the meadow he caught a flicker of
action. He squinted. three, no, four gray-white blobs, moving slow,
coming down to feed and to drink. He nudged Higgins and pointed with
a finger. Higgins raised his head and stared and finally nodded. He
didn't quite have the hunter's eye.

The sheep stepped dainty down the ridge, on guard but
not spooky. Two looked like good meat. They came within range of the
Hawken but not of the Kentucky. He said, low-voiced to Higgins, "Ho1d
up. Aim at the small one to the right. Fire when I say go."

Careful in his movements, he planted the ramrod, held
it with his left hand and laid the gun across his arm for a rest.
Higgins had the lighter rifle at his shoulder.

"
Go!"

The animal he had aimed at fell without a quiver.
Higgins" target jumped once and scrambled and lay still. The two
older sheep ran off.

They reloaded their rifles. "Good fare for White
Hawk,"

Summers said.

"
Won't feed the camp."

"
Could be we ain't done."

They walked back and got the horses and rode to the
dead sheep. They skinned and gutted them, saving the fleeces, and,
with the carcasses wrapped in canvas and hitched to a pack horse,
they sat down and smoked.

The sun had begun its slide to the west. One white
cloud, round as a bullboat, sailed in the east. The breeze died out.
It was then that a single elk walked out of the woods. Summers
whispered, "If I don't knock it dead, you fire." Aiming
without a rest, it flicked into his mind that he should let Higgins
shoot. But the Kentucky was small for an elk. The elk grunted to the
smack of the bullet, walked hunched a few feet and lay down.

"Plenty meat now," Summers said. `

It was going on to dusk when they got back to camp,
their pack horses loaded. And it was as if the whole damn camp came
out to meet them, children forgetting their play, women forgetting
their fires and men forgetting to loaf.

They rode to White Hawk's lodge. He had come out and
stood in front of it, pleasure showing in his old face.

"
He bring you sheep," Summers said,
pointing to Higgins.

"
Two sheep, one elk we have, for you and your
people."

White Hawk moved his right hand and held his extended
fingers to his left breast, then fluttered the hand in a plane to his
right. It was the sign for good. Maybe it also meant thanks.