by Jon Scieszka
Bull Bear sat Fred, Sam, and me in front of him.
A circle of old men and young warriors went all around the fire at the center. One guy sat in a special seat behind a circle of sticks. He held a bundle wrapped in fur and decorated with feathers. I figured he must be Chief Black Kettle.
Sam nodded toward him. “That’s the medicine chief.”
A friendly-looking old guy who reminded me of my grandfather stood up next to him. Everyone quieted down.
“Chief Black Kettle,” said Sam.
“Brothers. We meet tonight to decide what to do with these three wasichu boys we have found. Let us now ask Grandmother Earth, Grandfather Sky, and the Four Directions for wisdom in deciding what is best for the People.”
The entire tipi full of braves became instantly quiet. We sat as still as possible. I thought of all of the cowboys and Indians I had seen in movies and on TV. I thought of how far away from all of that we were.
“Hiy,” said Black Kettle, breaking the spell.
Everyone answered, “Hiy.”
The medicine chief unfolded the bundle. He pulled out a red clay pipe with a long wood stem, and lit it with a stick from the fire.
The pipe passed from person to person around the circle. When it got to me I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. I puffed carefully and blew out a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. I held back a cough and passed the pipe to Sam.
When everyone had smoked, Black Kettle spoke.
“Everyone here knows me and my thoughts on this. The White War Chief has promised to protect us if we follow the peaceful way. If we return these boys to the Bluecoats, they will know our hearts are good. If we kill these boys, it can only bring bad medicine and war to the People. It is I, Moka-ta-va-tah, that says it.”
“Yeah,” said Fred.
Bull Bear stood up. “Black Kettle, you have spoken, but you have also forgotten. You have forgotten my brother, our chiefs White Antelope, War Bonnet, and Yellow Wolf, and half of your tribe—all wiped out by the Bluecoats at Sand Creek three winters past. You have forgotten your own wife—shot by the same Bluecoats. Yes, we are at war. And Bull Bear and his Dog Soldiers will fight until there are none of us left. Send the Bluecoats three scalps.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Sam.
After Bull Bear and Black Kettle spoke, just about everyone gave their opinion of what to do with us, most of it in Cheyenne. But it wasn’t hard to figure out what they were saying. The older guys were mostly with Black Kettle. The younger braves were with Bull Bear.
More braves spoke.
The pipe circled around once more.
More braves spoke.
I was beginning to get dizzy with all of the smoke and talk when Sam leaned over. “Hey, I get it,” he whispered. He pointed over behind the medicine chief. “This whole tipi is like a planetarium.”
Suddenly everyone was quiet and seemed to be looking at us. Sam slowly lowered his pointing finger. “Uh-oh.”
The medicine chief stood up and gestured to Sam. I think he said, “Would you like to share your joke with the rest of the class?” in Cheyenne. Two braves grabbed Sam and dragged him toward the fire.
“I’ll never whisper in class again,” said Sam.
But it didn’t look like he would ever get a chance to keep that promise.
EIGHT
The two braves stood Sam in front of the medicine chief.
He raised a stick decorated with three feathers and pointed it at Sam. “Now you speak.”
“Well, I was um ... er ... ah ... just telling Joe here that your designs look a lot like constellations.”
The medicine chief looked at the designs and then back at Sam.
“Constellations. You know ... stars.” Sam pointed to the biggest circle. “See—if this is Polaris, the North Star, then this is the tail of Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear.” Sam traced the pattern of the Little Dipper on the side of the tipi. “Then this is Ursa Major or the Big Bear pointing toward the North Star, the one star that appears never to move.”
“The Star That Does Not Walk Around,” said the medicine chief, looking a bit surprised. “You know the stars?”
“Of course,” said Sam, stepping around a few braves. “Astronomy is a fascinating and useful science.” He pointed to a design of seven stars. “We call these the Pleiades. But you probably know them as the Seven Boys Who Danced Themselves into the Sky.”
Now the medicine chief looked positively awed. “No wasichu has ever read my star designs.” He sat down with a stunned look and began searching through the pouches and robes. The rest of the council looked equally stunned.
“He really is Mr. Information,” whispered Fred.
Then Bull Bear stood up. “Every child in the village has heard the tales of the Great Bear and the Dancing Boys by the winter campfires. That is not strong medicine.”
A few braves nodded. I looked around and saw we were losing votes, and maybe our scalps. Then I saw the medicine man’s staff and had a stroke of inspiration. The Power Broomstick Trick. I hadn’t actually had a chance to try it out yet. But I figured it was truly now, in 1868, or never.
I stood up. “My name is Joe the Magnificent. I have strong medicine.”
Bull Bear gave me a look that could kill.
“I have medicine that will make Warrior Fred stronger than your strongest warrior.”
Everyone began talking at once.
“Joe, are you nuts?” said Fred.
I walked to a clear spot in the center of the tipi and dragged Fred with me. “If I may use your staff.”
The medicine chief nodded. I picked up the feathered staff and handed it to Fred. “Hold it horizontally, two hands on top,” I whispered. “The trick is to pull up slightly when they push. It redirects their force.”
“Are you sure?” whispered Fred.
“Sure I’m sure,” I lied.
I tried to think of an impressive sounding spell. I waved my hands over Fred and chanted:“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now no brave can push Fred at all.”
Bull Bear himself stepped forward. The muscles on his broad chest and huge arms bulged in the flickering firelight. It was too late for second thoughts, but I was having them anyway.
Bull Bear grabbed the staff with a smile and pushed.
Fred didn’t move.
He pushed harder.
Fred still didn’t move. A few braves murmured.
He pushed as hard as he could, puffing and blowing.
Fred stayed right where he was.
Bull Bear dropped his hands with a look of disgust and the entire tipi roared. Sam cheered. Fred flexed one arm. I tried to look as magical as possible. Black Kettle stood and held up his hand for quiet.
“As your chief, I say we have a sign as clear as the stars above.” He put his hands on my shoulders and smiled. “Truly these three small wasichus have come with good hearts to bring such strong medicine to the People. Tomorrow they shall be returned to the Bluecoats.”
The crowd in the tipi stood up and walked out, talking among themselves. A few glanced sideways at me, Sam, and Fred. The younger braves didn’t look too happy. The medicine chief made his way over to Sam. “I have something that is yours.”
Bull Bear put one large hand on Sam’s shoulder, one large hand on my shoulder, and squeezed Fred between us. “Now we sleep. Talk later.”
Black Kettle gave Bull Bear a look. “You will take care of our guests?”
“The Dog Soldiers found them. The Dog Soldiers will take care of them.”
“It is done,” said Black Kettle, but he didn’t sound too sure. Neither was I.
Bull Bear herded us out into the night. Black Kettle and the medicine chief stood together in the middle of the council tipi. “Tomorrow,” said Black Kettle.
“Let’s hope so,” said Fred.
NINE
Bull Bear pushed us roughly into his darkened tipi. He was not in a good mood. Fred, Sam, an
d I sat on a pile of buffalo robes.
“Where did you learn that stick trick?” asked Fred.
“Just a little magic I picked up in a book,” I said.
“And Sam, how did you know all that constellation stuff?”
“Just a little magic I picked up in a book.”
Bull Bear fed the fire with a handful of grass and sticks. It blazed up and sent weird shadows dancing around on the inside of the tipi. He stared at us with a familiar nasty look.
“Didn’t his mother ever tell him his face might freeze that way?” whispered Sam.
Four braves, all painted with the same red stripe design across their mouths and eyes, stepped inside and sat down. Soon they were all talking very excitedly.
“I think we better come up with some more tricks or a certain book,” said Fred. “Because this does not look good for the visiting team.” We each found a robe and rolled up in it. “We better keep an eye on these guys.”
“Right,” I yawned. “You and Sam sleep first. I’ll watch, then wake you up for your turn.”
Sam was already snoring. Fred yawned, “Okay,” and rolled over.
The braves talked quietly now. One by one they slipped out until only Bull Bear was left staring at the dimming fire. I snuggled in the warmth of the buffalo robe. I rested one eye for a second. I rested the other. I rested both, then opened them. Bull Bear was still there.
I rested one eye. I rested the other. The next thing I knew I was being lifted up in the air and carried. My mouth was covered. My hands and feet were tied. I saw Sam and Fred being carried along by more red-striped warriors. The sun was just coming up as we were thrown over horses and carried out of the village. I had no idea where we were headed, but I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t back to the cavalry.
We rode for hours, bouncing along on horseback. Bull Bear and his fierce-looking Dog Soldiers finally stopped and dumped us on the ground. One of the braves tied us to a twisted little tree.
“This does not look good at all,” said Sam. “Yeah,” said Fred.
“Remember Cooky said first they tied ’em up. Then they—”
“I know. I know,” I said. “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to think of something magic.”
One of the Dog Soldiers rode up and pointed over the next hill.
Bull Bear smiled. He slid out his knife. “Let us see your strong medicine now, wasichus. Or maybe you will save it to show your cowboy friends.” He pointed toward the next hill. I could hear the faint sounds of cattle mooing and someone, probably Cody, whistling and singing.
“I will cut a nice circle scalp,” said Bull Bear, waving his knife in front of us. “When the cowboys see you, they will know you were scalped by Bull Bear and his Dog Soldiers. Then we will wipe them out and scalp them for the Bluecoats to see, too.”
Sam, Fred, and I all strained against the ropes together, struggling to escape. It was no use. There was no magic, no trick, no book that could possibly save us now.
Bull Bear reached for Fred’s hair. An arrow whizzed out of nowhere and stuck in the tree. Bull Bear stopped and looked up.
A pack of Indians on horses came screaming down the hillside. It was Black Kettle and the medicine chief, followed by at least thirty warriors. Black Kettle’s braves whooped, screamed, and knocked heads with their war clubs. The ten or so Dog Soldiers were rounded up in a quick tussle and brought in front of Black Kettle.
The medicine chief sliced us free with his knife.
“Saved by the good guys,” said Sam.
Black Kettle and Bull Bear stood face to face. Black Kettle was giving him a fierce lecture in Cheyenne. Bull Bear seemed to be making some kind of excuse, but Black Kettle didn’t look like he was buying it. Black Kettle gave him one more blast and a hand gesture, then walked over to us.
“I must apologize for the actions of some of our warriors. There are always those who act first and think later.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” said Fred. “My dad says I do that all the time.”
Sam and I laughed.
A familiar-looking cloud of dust and the sound of mooing longhorns rose over the hill in front of us. I never thought I’d be so happy to see that dusty, stinky bunch of cows again.
“We will return you now to your friends,” said Black Kettle. “And hope this may help you find your way home, as your return may help my people find the way.”
Bull Bear and his Dog Soldiers scowled at us. The medicine chief pulled a fur pouch from his pony’s saddle and handed it to Sam.
“And we return this to you, young watcher of the stars. It has been with our Sacred Arrows for as many winters as I know. Perhaps you know also what these other strange markings mean.”
Sam opened the pouch. We saw the silver stars and moons on a dark blue background and let out a yell just as the bugle blew its first blast.
“The Book,” yelled Fred.
The bugle sounded again and I saw where it was coming from—an army of hundreds of blue-coated soldiers, guns firing and sabres flashing, charging down the hill directly at us.
We were about to be saved by the cavalry, whether we liked it or not.
TEN
The bugle sounded the charge again.
Rifle shots cracked and bullets whistled over our heads.
Fred waved his hat and ran toward the charging cavalry. “Wait. Stop. These are the good guys. They’re bringing us back.”
“Stop, Warrior Fred,” yelled Black Kettle. “Even your medicine is not strong enough to fight Bluecoat rifles.”
The soldiers kept charging, whooping and shooting the whole way. Seeing they were hopelessly outnumbered, the Cheyenne braves jumped on their ponies and dashed up the opposite hill.
Buzzing bullets clipped a branch from the tree and sprayed little explosions of sand at our feet. Fred waved his hat once more and then pulled it down. A bullet hole went right through the middle of the white D. “Yikes. These guys aren’t kidding!”
Black Kettle kicked his pony into a gallop and in one smooth move leaned over, scooped up Fred, and dropped him on horseback behind him. The medicine chief hoisted Sam onto his pony. Another brave lifted me. And we galloped after the retreating warriors.
We had just reached the top of the hill when we abruptly stopped. Bull Bear and the rest of the warriors had turned their ponies to face back toward the cavalry.
“Don’t stop now. Let’s get out of here,” I said. Bull Bear pointed over the hill. Two thousand head of Lazy J cattle stretched across the plain, blocking our escape ahead. I looked back. A hundred soldiers galloped past the little tree, blocking our escape behind. We were trapped.
Bull Bear and his Dog Soldiers calmly dismounted. They readied their bows and arrows. Some chanted. Others sang their death songs.
Fred, Sam, and I slid off the backs of our ponies and dove behind the nearest bush.
Bull Bear stood tall, testing the point of an arrow with his thumb. “Today is a good day to die.”
“I don’t think so,” said Sam. He handed me the fur pouch. “Quick, Joe, The Book. Use it!”
I pulled the thin midnight-blue book from the pouch. Bullets stung the ground all around us.
“Those guys are trying to kill us,” said Fred.
I looked at the cavalry charging up the hill. Their leader looked familiar in a history-book sort of way. I could just make out a “7” on the red-and-white banner. “Hey, I think that’s Custer,” I said.
“Maybe we can chat later,” said Sam. “Right now he looks busy getting ready to make this our Last Stand.”
“Yeah, come on already,” said Fred. “Open The Book and let’s get out of here.”
I looked again at the Lazy J herd behind us, Custer and his troops in front of us. Then I looked up at Black Kettle. He didn’t look particularly worried or mad, just kind of sad. Dust and noise swirled all around us. Black Kettle looked down and raised one eyebrow in a little smile. He and his Cheyenne braves weren’t going anywhere.
I turned to Fred an
d Sam. “But we can’t just leave these guys to get wiped out.”
“What are we supposed to do?” said Sam. “Take them home with us?”
I looked up and tried to imagine Black Kettle and his warriors in the middle of New York. “I don’t know ...”
“Wait,” said Fred. “I’ve got it. The Time Freezer Spell.”
“Oh, right,” said Sam. “Just like last time.”
“No. Look it up in The Book, Mr. Information.”
Custer and the Seventh Cavalry were halfway up the hill now and closing in. The braves fired a wave of arrows.
I flipped to the index in the back of The Book “Idiot Powder ... Illness Faking ... Impossible Acts ... Industrial Strength Time Freezer Spell—page forty-four.”
I thumbed to page 44. The Cheyenne warriors sang and whooped. The Lazy J herd mooed. Custer and the Seventh Cavalry charged.
“So read it, already,” said Sam.
“Here goes nothing,” I said.
“Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the clock. Hickory Dickory dare, the pig flew up in the air. Mouse cheese, pig sneeze Now I command time freeze.”
And it did.
Everything stopped.
The cloud of dust hung over the Lazy J herd like a painting. Custer and his men stood frozen in mid-charge—puffs of rifle smoke, the curled red-and-white Seventh Cavalry banner, guys with their mouths open, horses on two legs, all as still as if they were made out of stone. Black Kettle and the Cheyenne braves looked like an exhibit from the natural history museum, carefully placed in warlike action poses. And it was absolutely, perfectly, very spookily silent.
Fred, Sam, and I stood up slowly, afraid to break the spell.
“I don’t believe it,” breathed Sam.
“It really worked,” I whispered.
Fred passed his hand in front of Bull Bear’s open eyes. Sam walked around a bullet suspended in midair.
