Gedi Puniku- Cat Eyes

by Jeanie P Johnson

  He looked up at me and smiled once, and then proceeded to lay the snake in a circle on the rock. I noticed he had already built a small fire, so he must have been there longer than I thought, and I wondered how long I had been unconscious? The fire had burned down with hot coals glowing in the ring where it was built. He lifted the rock with his capable arms and placed it in the center of the coals. Then he came to where I was and sat down cross-legged beside me.

  “You are brave to travel alone, but your bravery is little protection if you are met by some of my enemies. They delight in torturing the white man. They hate them with a fierceness that is unrestrained. The Gods must have led me to you so you could stay safe.”

  Even that Indian believed in God I thought. God hadn’t been a very good friend to me so far, so why would he lead a heathen to me in order to keep me safe, I wondered? That heathen must have some crazy God, who wasn’t related to the God who was supposed to be watching over me, I decided. I wondered why his God would value a white “runt’s” life? My God didn’t seem to care much about what happened to me.

  “Why are you out here all alone?” I asked.

  “I am tracking a band of Sioux who stole horses. That is why it is not safe here for you. They are not far off. I have been tracking them for many moons now.”

  “You are all by yourself,” I pointed out. “How are you going to get your horses back?”

  “There are merely six braves. They are heading north to Sioux country, only when I heard your gun I feared they had found something more than horses to capture. Before I take you with me, back to Wyoming, we go get horses first.”

  “We? You want me to risk my neck to help you get your horses?” I almost screeched.

  Wawee’ne reached out and touched my neck with his finger.

  “Your neck be safe. I do hard work killing the Sioux. You just lead horses away while I am busy.”

  “You are going to kill them?” I gasped.

  “They are wayward braves. They are not only a danger to your people but they are an enemy to my tribe. We have wanted revenge against the Sioux for too long. That is why we help white soldiers fight against them. The Sioux band escaped the battle and took soldier’s horses. I offered to bring horses back. My tribe wishes to remain in Wind Ridge Valley. The whites send the Tribes in other places to reservations away from their homeland. Washakie does not want us to be sent to some other place. If we help the white soldiers they will tell their leaders to let us keep our land. Even if I die, it will be for a good cause.”

  “You must love your homeland very much,” I murmured.

  “Washakie is wise Chief. He knows the only way to win against the white man is to help him, so the white man will help us. Now I help you and get soldier’s horses too. You stay by me, help get horses. Then I hunt for you so you can eat. I protect you from enemy tribes. I bring you to your father.”

  He gave me an engaging smile. I was thinking I had no choice. But he seemed friendly enough and as long as he was under the assumption that I was a boy, I felt safe.

  “I guess I have no choice,” I said what I was thinking.

  “All choices lead to road we travel through life,” he told me.

  I wasn’t really sure what he meant, but I knew one thing, I wasn’t going to have to worry about shooting something to eat any longer, and I at least had someone to talk to.

  When the snake was cooked, he brought me pieces of the meat he put on one of my tin plates and handed it to me. I noticed he had gone through all my supply bags. It was the best thing I had eaten in a long time. I was thinking that maybe it was a good thing he had found me. I wondered if God really did have something to do with it?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Even though Wawee’ne said he was there to protect me, I didn’t know if I could trust him. Everyone knew that Indians never kept their word. Many times they would trade horses to the settlers traveling through their land, and then come and steal them back in the middle of the night. They would say one thing and then do another. I heard they were cunning in their bargaining and went out of their way to take advantage of trusting white travels. The last thing I was going to trust was an Indian’s word. Therefore, I didn’t sleep very well that night.

  Besides my head aching, I feared I would wake up in the morning and discover Wawee’ne had taken my horse, supplies and possibly even my dog, considering Bandit seemed to take a liking to the Shoshoni, for some unfathomable reason. He laid his blankets down beside my cot-roll. I don’t know if it was because he wanted to protect me, or he didn’t trust me either. It crossed my mind a couple of times to leave in the middle of the night, only I knew that Indians were good trackers and he would probably track me down if I tried to escape.

  I worried about going with him to get the horses back. I didn’t even know if I could believe him about the horses he was going after. For all I knew, he had friends waiting at a distant and he was planning to sell me to them as a slave. I had heard stories about Indians taking white people and Mexicans as slaves when they captured them. I could imagine him getting me to trust him, fooling me into following him willingly and then when we were in a place that wasn’t familiar to me, he would force me to go with him having some diabolic plan in store for me. Then it would be too late to try and escape, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to get back to the river. That was why I was hesitant to follow him north, away from the Platte River, no matter what kind of help he promised me.

  As I lay awake, keeping an eye on him, his eyes opened and he looked at me in the moon glow, which made his eyes seem hypnotic.

  “Why you not sleep?” he asked.

  I didn’t know if I should be honest with him or lie?

  “I just can’t sleep,” I told him at last, which was the truth.

  I figured I didn’t have to give him a reason why I couldn’t sleep.

  “I can see you fear Wawee’ne” he said.

  He seemed to be reading my mind which frightened me even more.

  “White people not trust the red man,” he said. “Red man not trust white man. It hard to make peace with each other.”

  “It’s just that I don’t want to go with you while you kill someone. All I want to do is find my Papa.”

  “They bad Indians. If I not kill them they may kill more white people. Do you not care about your own people’s lives?”

  “But just to go in and kill them without warning…”

  “They would do same if they wanted my scalp,” he told me.

  “You are not going to scalp them, are you?” I shivered.

  “I need scalps. Show soldiers they no longer threaten anyone.”

  “I thought the Shoshoni were supposed to be peaceful Indians?”

  “Peaceful people protect self and fight wars. Your white soldiers kill. You believe white people peaceful? You should be glad I wish to rid you of bad Indians.”

  “Only I just have your word to go by. How do I know you are telling me the truth?”

  “What I do to make you trust me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully.

  “You must trust me,” he said simply with a sly-looking smile.

  It didn’t make me trust him any better. I knew I would have to go with him. He would expect it and if I balked he might get angry at me. I didn’t want to discover what it would be like to have a wild Indian angry at me. I thought about what he had said about his chief believing that to win against the white man he had to help them. Maybe I should do the same thing with him, I told myself.

  Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because he woke me early before the sun was even up.

  “We go now,” he told me.

  At least he had not taken off with my horse, I told myself with a little more reassurance he may be telling me the truth. That is unless he just wanted me to trust him so he could trade me as a slave to some neighboring tribe. Everything was already packed and ready to go. I rolled up my cot-roll and stuffed it into one of the gunny sacks, an
d swung up on Fire Cracker’s back. I was tired, but my head had stopped aching.

  He watched me with a glint of admiration in his eye, I thought. Maybe he didn’t think I could swing up on my horse, me being such a ’runt’, or maybe the look meant he was pleased I was going along willingly and wouldn’t cause him any trouble. Nonetheless, I followed him. The whole time ranting at myself about doing it. It was wasting time. I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t want to be a witness to him taking someone’s scalp. Maybe my scalp would be next, for all I knew.

  He kept looking over at me and his eyes would wander over my face and my curls escaping the confines of my battered hat. I wondered if he was trying to figure out if I was a girl and not a boy?

  “Hair like red flame,” he said, unexpectedly. “Never see hair so red,” he explained. “Ankepompy is Shoshoni word for red hair.”

  “Must be the Scott’s in me,” I said.

  I knew he probably didn’t even know what that meant, and I wasn’t actually sure if it was true that I had Scottish blood, regardless of what Papa told me.

  “Never see green eyes like you have,” he continued. “Like cat eyes. Gedi Puniku.”

  Papa had called my eyes cat eyes, the same as he did. I noticed he kept throwing Shoshoni words into his comments like he wanted to teach me his language for some reason. I didn’t figure I would be with him long enough to need to learn his language.

  “I call you Gedi Puniku,” he informed me.

  I started to tell him my name was Haley but decided it was just as well. He could call me whatever he wanted to, I decided. As soon as we got to Wyoming, I hoped to never see him again. I also hoped I actually got to Wyoming.

  When he turned his horse north, away from the Platte River, I hesitated, not wanting to follow. He looked over his shoulder at me, a little gruffly.

  “You come!” he demanded.

  We sat there for a long time just staring at each other. His eyes insisting, my eyes resisting.

  “You come. I protect!”

  Protect me from what, I wondered? So far I had been safe enough until he came along. He was leading me into danger. What if he couldn’t kill the Indians that took the horses? He said they were bad Indians. If they ended up killing him instead, I would be a sitting duck.”

  “What if you can’t kill them?” I asked. “What if they kill you instead?”

  “I fierce fighter. They no kill me.”

  “You don’t know that! We could both get killed!”

  “Why fear death? It comes to all men.”

  “But not now! I don’t want it to come now!” I bellowed.

  He cocked his head at me as though trying to figure out how to convince me to welcome death the way he seemed to do.

  “You no have faith in Wawee’ne.”

  “I don’t even know you! You just come along and expect me to believe you? I was perfectly fine before you came along,” I insisted.

  “You were hurt when I come along,” he pointed out. “Not fine.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get hurt even more by some Sioux Indian,” I informed him.

  “Then you stay. You stay by river. You wait. I come with horses. Then I protect you.”

  I smiled as I felt relief flood over me. He was not going to force me to come with him. The very fact that he said that gave me trust in him. I shrugged and nudged Fire Cracker forward. I would come with him after all, I decided.

  Wawee’ne raised his eye brows at me as I approached. Then his face lit up with a smile. At that moment, I realized he had a rather pleasant looking face. I would have to trust him I decided. After all, Bandit seemed to like him. That said something, I tried to convince myself.

  Now we were crossing over grassland as far as the eye could see. I wondered how he even knew which way to go, considering there didn’t seem to be any landmarks around to guide him? He seemed intent, and I could see he kept looking down as he traveled forward. I realized he was tracking his prey. I thought of the tiger beetles dancing on the sand of the riverbank, seeking their prey. It seemed we had many things in common with nature, I thought. Only tiger beetles ate their prey, Wawee’ne was merely going to scalp his.

  Wawee’ne appeared relentless in his determination to find the band of Sioux. He seldom talked to me as he kept his eyes peeled for clues that only he could probably recognize to guide him to his goal. He only stopped a couple of times so we could eat. He shared hunks of dried meat with me, and I shared the last of my eggs with him. He seemed to enjoy the eggs but said nothing to indicate it.

  He had replaced his fringed shirt and leggings and looked like the typical proud Indian warrior atop his horse. I loved the look of his horse. It was a dapple with a long flowing mane. He had attached feathers to the mane, hanging down below his horse’s ear on one side. He had painted a ring around the eye of his horse and there was a handprint on the horses rear flank. He sat his horse with ease, sitting straight and tall. There was only one rein on the horse and no bridle. It seemed to be tied to the horses lower jaw, but I never saw him actually guide his horse with that rein. It appeared he merely used the pressure of his legs.

  “Does your horse have a name?” I asked. “I call my horse Fire Cracker.”

  “Nasuwai. It means shy. When I first find him I had hard time getting him to trust me. Just like you,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile. “You see he trusts me much now,” he pointed out. “Soon you trust me too, maybe.”

  I didn’t answer, knowing how cunning the Indians were purported to be, I wasn’t even sure if that really was the name of his horse.

  We continued to ride until dusk. The terrain had started to turn into rolling hills, instead of totally flat ground, so it was harder to see what was in the distance. Wawee’ne got down from his horse, his arm through his bow and quiver of arrows already on his back.

  “We leave horses here,” he told me.

  He dropped the rein of his horse and I climbed down and did the same, doing what was called ground tying the horses. They were both trained to remain in place if the rein was dropped to the ground. I also told Bandit to stay and he sat down obediently beside Fire Cracker.

  The grass was up around our waist in places as we walked through it. We had to walk cautiously because the edges of some of the mixture of grasses were sharp and could cut your skin if you were not careful. We were walking to the top of a rise and when we reached it, Wawee’ne crouched down. I crouched beside him. We proceeded with caution, and then I could see why. Down below us, between two rises of grassland hills, we could see several Indians. They were all sitting in a circle talking among themselves. Off to one side were several horses. I recognized the military horses right away. They were taller than the other horses and were all solid colors, such as brown or black. A few of them had a military "Indian War" McClellan Saddle on their backs. The Indian ponies were smaller and more colorful. Most were paint ponies and one was Appaloosa. They all were decorated with their own paint designs put there by their owners. Their saddles had been removed. It appeared that the horses were all hobbled.

  “We wait until dark,” Wawee’ne whispered.

  Then he lay down on his stomach, pulling me down beside him. He placed his chin on his arms that were crossed in front of him as he watched the men below.

  “Are you going to kill them?” I whispered.

  “Maybe.”

  “I thought you said you wanted their scalps?”

  “You not like me scalp them,” he said, winking at me. “Maybe I spare their lives.”

  “What will the soldiers say if you don’t bring them scalps.”

  “If I bring horses, they have no complaint.”

  “You would not kill them because of me?” I wondered.

  “It more dangerous not to kill them,” he informed me. “We could be killed, like you fear.”

  I was torn. I didn’t want to be killed, but I didn’t want to see anyone else get killed either.

  “What do you plan to do then?” I asked.
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br />   “When they sleep, you go down to horses. Remove hobbles. Keep hobbles to use later. I go watch to make sure they not wake. If they wake, I kill. If not, we take horses. They may follow, but they are close to their village. They may decide to return to their people instead.”

  “What if they follow?” I asked.

  “We keep watch for them. Then maybe I kill them after all,” he smiled. “We take all horses so Sioux are on foot.”

  “Do you think they will bring more Sioux with them and hunt us down, the way you hunted them down?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” he said. “If I kill them now, they won’t.”

  He gave me a knowing look.

  “You decide,” I said at last.

  I didn’t want to be the one saying whether he should kill anyone.

  “We take chance. You free horses and lead back to our horses. I watch to make sure they do not follow. Then I join you.”

  “There are so many horses,” I said doubtfully.

  “Take a few. Others will follow.”

  “What if they wake up and kill you?” I asked.

  “Then I be dead,” he smiled. “If I not come, you leave horses and go. They will not know you were with me. They will take horses and leave.”

  I shivered because I didn’t think I would be able to find my way back to the river if he ended up getting killed. I didn’t want to think of him being killed. Even though I didn’t know him or trust him, so far he had treated me kindly. He trusted me to help him and was willing not to kill the band of Indians because I had mentioned my displeasure in the plan. Why did he care what I thought, I wondered?

  We lay there for a very long time. I started to fall asleep, and then I felt Wawee’ne nudge me.

  “Go,” he whispered, pointing in the direction of the horses that were now mere shadows in the dim half-moon glow.

  I crouched down and scurried through the tall grass, keeping bent so I did not stand above the grass. When I got to the horses, I crawled about them, untying their hobbles and throwing them over my shoulder as I finished un-hobbling each horse. None of them seemed startled or surprised by me. They were all very well-mannered horses, I thought, as I continued untying them. Then I grabbed the reins of one of the military horses, and wrapped one of the hobble lines around the neck of an Indian pony and started pulling them in the direction of where we had left our horses. Slowly they started to follow me, and then the rest of the horses were following as well. A moment later, Wawee’ne was beside me. He picked me up and placed me on the military horse’s back, which was wearing a saddle, and he swung up on the Indian pony beside me. He gave the pony a kick, and the whole bunch of horses started running. I could hear the Indians calling out in surprise in the distance. A few arrows flew past us, but soon we were out of range.