One of the most remarkable aspects about the lodges was the Mandan practice of using the roofs for everything from dozing in the sun to playing games on them, as the children often did. As Nate was led toward Mato-tope’s lodge, he saw dozens of men and women observing his party from above. On top of several dwellings rested bull boats the women employed when traveling along the river to work on their crops. A number of buffalo skulls were also in evidence.
Four Bears occupied a lodge near the central plaza. He stood aside and motioned for Nate to enter through the rectangular doorway braced by stout beams.
Once inside Nate noted other beams used to support the structure. To his right was a long rail to which were tied a number of sleek war horses, mares, and colts. Dogs scampered about. Baskets, shields, and parfleches hung from the beams, while lances and paddles leaned against them. At the base of one post was another buffalo skull.
Illumination was afforded by the sunlight streaming in through the large hole in the roof. Directly under the hole buffalo robes had been spread, and near these four women were busy preparing food and drink for their guests. Bashful children hung back, watching from the outer shadows.
Nate was accorded the seat of honor on Mato-tope’s left. Zach was allotted the seat on the chief’s right, with Eric Nash beside him. Winona, according to Indians custom, squatted to Nate’s left and slightly behind him.
Once everyone was comfortable, Four Bears broke out his favorite pipe and it was passed around from man to man. In addition to the grand chief, there were four other warriors present at this welcoming ceremony, one the war chief of the village, another the peace chief.
In keeping with tradition, Four Bears made a short speech, using sign. “Once again we have a chance to show our love for our white brothers by helping these friends who are now among us. Many times have the whites shown their affection for us by giving us many gifts. But the most precious gift they have brought us is the gift of peace. When the two known as Lewis and Clark came among us many winters ago, in the time when Black Cat was grand chief of all the Mandans, they insisted we make peace with our old enemies the Pawnees, and since that day our people have been able to hunt without fear of being attacked by them, and our woman can take off their moccasins at night. This is good.”
Nate recollected hearing about the winter the Lewis and Clark expedition spent in the vicinity of the Mandans and the aid that had been rendered.
“Thanks to the whites,” the venerable chief was saying, “we have made peace with all our enemies except the Sioux, who continue to plague us with their raids. My people are in dread of them, which is why we seldom go out to hunt buffalo anymore except in large groups. Perhaps, in the future, the whites will help us make peace with them as well so that all may live in peace and harmony.”
The frank appeal touched Nate, and he responded as eloquently as he was able: “Were it in my power to bring about peace between the Sioux and the Mandans, know that I would do so. But I do not know the Sioux. From the stories I have been told, they do not like whites, and kill and scalp us when they can. So I say that if the Sioux should attack our friends the Mandans while we are staying in your village, we will help the Mandans fight them off. Your happiness is our happiness, and your sorrows are our sorrows.”
Four Bears appeared quite moved, and impulsively gripped Nate’s shoulders as a token of their mutual devotion. Then he gave commands and the women brought food and drink.
While they ate, Four Bears talked of his people, revealing there were about nine thousand Mandans living in six villages. In close proximity lived a smaller tribe, the Hidatsa, who spoke a different tongue but were otherwise so much like the Mandans in their dress and conventions that it was impossible to tell the two tribes apart.
Through extensive trade with the whites, the Mandans had become one of the richest tribes west of the Mississippi. They owned many blankets, axes, and knives obtained from traders, and they could also boast of owning more guns than any other Indians. They were a prosperous, thriving people, whose dispositions were always sunny and whose manners were above reproach. There was none of the petty thievery so common among some of the plains tribes, nor were they given to lying and trickery.
Nate found the tales about them to be completely true. He was much impressed by the bearing of the warriors and the beauty of the women, and he silently gave thanks that he had encountered the Shoshones first and not the Mandans, or he might well have ended up with a Mandan wife instead of Winona.
During the meal, Morning Dew made it a point to personally serve Eric Nash whatever he desired. She hovered over him like a hawk, ready to refill his bowl the moment it was empty. When he thanked her, as he did every time she waited on him, she bestowed a smile that would have melted butter.
“My people have almost used up our supply of meat,” Four Bears revealed after the food was consumed. “When the sun sets this day the Bull Society will perform the Buffalo Calling Dance so that many buffalo will come and fall under our lances, arrows, and guns. You are invited to attend.”
“We would be honored,” Nate signed, and inquired, “Am I to understand the Mandans have a number of special societies just as the Shoshones and others do?”
“Yes. For the men there is the Bull Society, the Okipa Society, and others. There are also
some for the women.” Four Bears nodded at his daughter. “Morning Dew is in the White Buffalo Cow Women society. They will hold their own dance this night so that the herds will graze near our village.”
“My wife would like to attend,” Nate signed, knowing she would and speaking on her behalf according to Indian protocol.
“The White Buffalo Cow Women would be glad to have her.”
After the welcoming ceremonies, Nate and his family were given a tour of the village by Mato-tope. The orderliness and cleanliness were above reproach. Every Mandan they encountered offered a friendly smile, while frolicking flocks of small children trailed in their wake, whispering and giggling.
As they neared the north palisade, Nate peered between the poles and saw dozens upon dozens of open scaffolds dotting the prairie. “Your dead?” he asked their host.
“Come and see,” Four Bears signed. He led them from the village and over to the scaffolds, which were just high enough so that the bodies were out of the reach of roving beasts. Here and there among the platforms were circles consisting of human skulls, and in the center of each circle were two buffalo skulls and two long lances tipped with feathers.
Nate halted near one such circle and watched an elderly woman approach. She stepped over the ring of skulls, knelt in the middle in front of one, and placed a bowl of squash on the ground beside it. “What is she doing?” he asked.
Four Bears pointed at the scaffolds. “When the flesh has wasted away, the skulls are taken and put into circles. Relatives and friends come here to honor those who have died and to bring them food they will eat in the spirit world.”
This was a new Indian custom to Nate. He wondered how those who had departed were supposed to eat real food, but made no comment in this regard as many Indians were quite touchy about their burial practices and often regarded any skepticism as an insult.
On their way into the village Nate spotted a man doing a dance atop one of the lodges. The warrior was chanting and waving a stick laden heavy with feathers. He glanced at the chief and arched his eyebrows quizzically.
“The rainmaker,” Four Bears explained. “We have not had rain for many sleeps and our cornfields are becoming dry.”
They walked on, and as they rounded a lodge encountered a Mandan dressed in a most spectacular manner, with a robe of white wolfskins hanging from his shoulders, medicine pipes in his hands, and fox tails tied to the heels of his moccasins. His body had been daubed with clay and he was painted red on his forearms and forehead.
“This is Old Bear, the greatest of our medicine men,” Four Bears said, presenting the aged healer. The two Mandans conversed briefly, then the chief adde
d, “He has heard about your friend who was wounded and he is going to cure him for you.”
Nate expressed his gratitude in sign language. While he might be dubious about certain burial practices, long ago he had learned not to discount the ability of medicine men and women to effect incredible cures. He’d personally witnessed such events, healings no white doctor was capable of doing, sometimes with the use of unknown herbs and other plants and sometimes involving spiritual techniques only the healers themselves knew.
Old Bear was about to walk off when his gaze fell on Winona. He stared at her stomach, then addressed Nate. “Your wife will give birth in three moons. The baby will be a girl, and she will be healthy.” Smiling, he hastened away.
Winona pressed a hand to her abdomen and grinned, pleased the renowned medicine man had confirmed her feelings. She was also glad to learn the birth would not take place for three more months, since that would give them time to return to their cabin high in the Rockies.
Nate was bemused by the medicine man’s predictions. By now Winona was showing her condition so that anyone could see she was pregnant, but the business about the baby being a girl and the time until the birth was baffling.
As they neared the chief’s lodge, they found Shakespeare and Jarvis waiting for them.
“Stalking Wolf told us about the warrior who was killed two sleeps ago,” the mountain man said to Four Bears. “And we would like to ride along with the men who are going out to scout around. Stalking Wolf has offered to let us use two of his horses, if you have no objections.”
“Tell my brother I have none,” the grand chief responded.
“What is this all about?” Nate inquired of McNair.
“Two warriors were out hunting the other day and they were set on by a band of Sioux,” Shakespeare detailed. “One was shot with an arrow. It happened not far from here, too close to the village for the Mandans’ liking. So they want to make sure the Sioux have left the area before they have their big buffalo ceremony tonight. The last thing they want is for the Sioux to spring a surprise attack while they’re all busy dancing and singing.”
“I’d like to come along if it’s all right with you,” Nate signed to Four Bears.
“Good. You can use my best horse, a gelding as fast as the wind.”
“What about you?” Nate said to Nash. “Care to join us? There might be some excitement.”
The Englishman glanced at the chief’s lodge, where Morning Dew stood framed in the entrance, and shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll stick around here.”
“I wonder why,” Nate muttered, and followed Four Bears into the lodge, where he was given a magnificent white gelding with a flowing black mane and tail. The animal shied until Nate stroked its neck, rubbed under its chin, and spoke soothingly in its ear.
As the warriors who were going gathered in front of Mato-tope’s lodge, it became apparent there were fifteen comprising the scouting party. Zach asked to go too, but Nate refused out of worry over the danger to his son should they run into any Sioux. Stalking Wolf, a tall, lean warrior dressed much like Four Bears, assumed the lead as they rode from the village. They bore to the east, crossed the Missouri at a shallow point, and headed into the prairie.
Nate rode beside his mentor, Jarvis behind them.
“So what do you think of the Mandans?” Shakespeare inquired after they had covered the better part of a mile.
I like them as much as I do the Shoshones, and I’ve only been among them for a few hours.”
“There are no people finer anywhere,” Shakespeare agreed. “What gets me, though, is how damn happy they are all the time. I’ve never met a tribe so contented with their lot in life, making the most of all life has to offer.”
“How long should we impose on their hospitality?”
“Until the marquis mends or they throw us out,” Shakespeare joked. “Whichever happens first.”
The giant prodded his mount forward to join them. I couldn’t help but overhear,” he commented. I like this bunch my own self. They’re not bad for heathens.” He chuckled, then declared, “Of course, I don’t like them half as much as Mr. Nash apparently does.”
“Why do you say that?”
“When you were in the high chief’s house, Nash confided to me that he’s thinking of staying on with them once we’ve gone.”
“What? Did he give a reason?” Shakespeare asked.
“No, sir. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. He’s taken a fancy to the high chief’s daughter. Morning Dew is her name, if I remember correctly.”
“Do tell,” Shakespeare said thoughtfully. “Life is just plumb full of little surprises. I only hope he knows what he’s getting himself into.”
“How so, sir?”
“If he starts fooling around with her, he’d better be serious about his intentions or there will be hell to pay. Not even the Mandans will abide having their women treated with disrespect. If he should get them mad at him, there’s no telling what they might do with the rest of us.”
I say. Maybe we should have a word with Nash and warn him.”
“Not me. I hardly know the man. You should do it, Jarvis. You’re his countryman.”
“True, sir. But it would be a bit awkward.”
“I’ll do it,” Nate offered. “Nash and I are friends. He’ll listen to me.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Shakespeare said. “When love flies in the ear of most men, their brains fly out the other.”
“Old William S. again?”
“No. Me.”
“Hold on,” Jarvis suddenly exclaimed, gazing straight ahead. “What the devil is that savage going on about?”
Nate looked, and saw Stalking Wolf gesturing sharply at a small group of riders several miles to the south. “He’s using sign language,” he translated for the ex-soldier’s benefit, “to inform us that those riders are Sioux.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next moment the Mandans were off, racing in hot pursuit of the fleeing Sioux. Nate, Shakespeare, and Jarvis joined in the chase, but the Englishman, having difficulty controlling his spirited horse, soon fell to the rear.
Nate’s own horse was everything Four Bears had claimed, and he shortly was in the lead alongside Stalking Wolf. Accustomed as he was to riding bareback, he had no problem handling the animal. The Mandans did use saddles, but usually only for ceremonial occasions. On long rides or when off to make war, they preferred to do without them.
Rather quickly it became apparent that the Sioux would not be easy to overtake. Their own mounts fairly flew over the ground, and the Sioux rode them as if each man and his steed were one creature.
Much had been bandied around the campfires of the trappers concerning the horsemanship of the Sioux, rumored to be second only to that of the Comanches, who were the generally acknowledged masters at both horse breeding and riding. Now Nate had the chance to see the truth of the assertions, and he was convinced every word he had heard was true. He’d seen Comanches once, the time he paid a visit to Santa Fe, so he could make a firsthand comparison.
But the Mandans were a persistent lot. For miles the chase continued through the high grass, spooking antelope and small game right and left. The warriors lashed their animals relentlessly with their quirts, but the Sioux maintained their lead throughout. Eventually the Mandan horses became winded and the reluctant warriors had to stop.
Nate was glad when they did. He would gladly have tangled with the Sioux, but he feared riding Mato-tope’s horse into the ground to catch them. If he should ruin the animal, courtesy demanded that he give the chief a horse of equal or better breeding.
As they were sitting there watching the Sioux vanish in the distance, Stalking Wolf signed, “There were five of them, just as Broken Claw claimed. I do not think they are part of a bigger war party or we would have seen more.”
“Most of them looked young to me,” Shakespeare signed. “My guess would be they are out to prove their manhood by coming here and hanging arou
nd your village. They hope to go back to their tribe and boast of the many coup they have counted.”
“If we catch them they will never count coup again.”
“Will you advise your brother to go on with the ceremony tonight?” Nate inquired.
“The Mandans do not fear children. We will have our buffalo dance.”
Preparations were in full swing when the scouting party rode into the village. The men belonging to the Bull Society had stripped down to their breechclouts, painted their bodies as was customary, and donned buffalo masks made from the skins of the great beasts. Complete with horns, the masks were amazingly lifelike. Many carried painted shields, some bows, some rifles, and others lances.
Not to be outdone, the members of the White Buffalo Cow Women had attired themselves in their finest dresses, thrown their prettiest blankets around their shoulders, and put on white conical headdresses crowned with feathers. They were congregating at the west end of the plaza, where they would perform their dance.
Everyone in the village gathered for the celebration, many standing around the outer margin of the plaza while almost as many more took to the roofs. The children were in their element, squealing with glee as they dashed to and fro and got underfoot now and then.
Four Bears had received the report of the Sioux band in somber silence. At his brother’s behest he had agreed the dances should indeed be held, but he had also given orders that commencing the very next day there would be warriors out on the prairie at all times searching for the young Sioux.
Nate and his party were allotted positions on the north side of the plaza where they had an unobstructed view of the unfolding ceremony. From where he stood Nate could see Winona and Diana Templar to the west, observing the women.
“Have you ever known anything so exciting in your whole life?” Eric Nash asked as they stood watching the last-minute arrangements of the Bull Society.
“Enjoying this, are you?”
“There are no words to describe these marvelous people. I feel as if I’ve stumbled on another Eden, and all around us are a new race of Adams and Eves.”
Season of the Warrior (A Wilderness Giant Edition Western Book 2) Page 20
