by James Welch
White Man’s Dog looked at his father. Rides-at-the-door smiled. And so the young man sat in the place of honor and told of all the greetings that had been sent to Three Bears and the Lone Eaters. He told them of Mountain Chiefs flight to Canada.
“Was Owl Child with them?”
“No one knew. But most felt he was, that the seizers had chased Owl Child and his gang to the camp of the Many Chiefs. That’s why they all had to run.”
Three Bears muttered his disgust. All the people fell silent. And that’s when White Man’s Dog noticed Red Paint. She was sitting beside her mother, a black cloth shawl over her head. He glanced at Heavy Shield Woman; then he looked around the group. Yellow Kidney was not among them. Although Red Paint was several paces away, this was the closest White Man’s Dog had been to her. She was watching him.
“And what about the purpose of your travels?”
White Man’s Dog looked at Three Bears as if he hadn’t understood. But he recovered his wits. “I went from band to band—the only people I didn’t see were the Many Chiefs—and they all expressed their approval. They were happy to learn of Heavy Shield Woman’s vow and of her good fortune in having Yellow Kidney return to her. They said they knew she was a virtuous woman and would help to make the Sun Dance ceremony a success. They also said they would do anything she required of them. Many prayers were said, and many of the women said they would assist Heavy Shield Woman.”
Three Bears picked up his medicine pipe. He looked at Heavy Shield Woman. “It would seem that all of our people are in agreement with your desire, sister. The way is clear for you to begin your preparations. You have witnessed the Sun Dance many times and you have seen the role of the Sacred Vow Woman. Many women would not accept such a role because the way is arduous. Only the strongest of our women have made such a vow, because one needs great strength to prepare for and carry out her duties. If you are successful, the Pikunis will prosper and enjoy favor with the spirit world. If you fail, if you are not strong or virtuous enough, great harm will come to us.” Three Bears looked slowly from face to face within the circle. “We are one, sister, in our approval. Do you accept the role of the Sacred Vow Woman?”
Heavy Shield Woman did not hesitate. “I made this vow in a time of great distress. My heart had fallen down, but I told my children that their father would return to them. I don’t know now if I believed it then. But I prayed to the Above Ones, to Sun Chief, to our Mother Earth, to allow my man to come home to me. My heart lightened somewhat because I knew the spirits had listened to me and took pity. They would not desert me and my children in our time of sadness. That’s when I came to you, Three Bears. I knew when I talked with you that Yellow Kidney would be returned.” Here, Heavy Shield Woman’s voice almost faltered as she thought of her pitiful husband. “That has happened, and so I say to you, and to the others present, I am strong and glad in my heart to be the Sacred Vow Woman.”
“We will smoke this pipe,” said Three Bears. “We will pray for our sister’s success.”
Outside the lodge, White Man’s Dog breathed in the fresh air and looked up at the stars. His father had stayed to talk with Three Bears. He looked at the stars and listened to the drumming and singing and he was happy. He would sleep well.
“I wish to thank you, White Man’s Dog.”
He turned his head to the voice and saw Heavy Shield Woman and Red Paint. He was too tired to be startled.
“I know your journey was long and you missed out on the trading. Your mother told me.”
“No, I—I wanted to make the journey. It was good.”
“Your words tonight set my heart at ease.” Heavy Shield Woman smiled, and White Man’s Dog felt the warmth of it. “There have been times when I wished another had made a similar vow. I would have gladly relinquished mine. But when I saw your face I knew there were no others and it made me happy.”
“The other women, they were happy too. They said Heavy Shield Woman is one of great resolve, of great virtue, of great, great ...”
The woman laughed at White Man’s Dog’s struggle for fine words. Red Paint laughed, and then he laughed. He laughed long and loud. He had never been this happy—or exhausted. His feet ached, he was weary in his bones, but being near Red Paint made even his weariness seem a thing of joy.
He wiped away the tears and Heavy Shield Woman said, “And thank you—for hunting for us. You can’t know—” She turned and walked away quickly.
Red Paint had not spoken and she didn’t speak now. She stepped forward and touched his arm. She smiled but there were tears in her eyes. Then she turned and followed her mother.
“And what about you, young man? Now that you are rich and powerful, it is time for you to take a wife.” Mik-api lay just inside the entrance to his lodge. The Lone Eaters had returned the day before to the Two Medicine River from the trading house, and the trip had tired him. The lodge skins were raised and he could see White Man’s Dog from where he lay.
White Man’s Dog sat just outside in the warm sun, rubbing an oily cloth over his new single-shot. He had been firing it earlier that morning, and he was still in awe of its power and accuracy. On his third shot, he had killed a prairie hen at a hundred paces. When he retrieved it, he found only a tangle of feathers and bone.
“As a heavy-singer-for-the-sick I encounter many people. Sometimes they want my healing, other times just to talk. They think they want me to tell them important things, but most often it’s the other way around. Just the other day I was invited into the lodge of my friend Yellow Kidney. In passing he mentioned that he would be forever grateful to you for sharing your kills with his family. I told him that you were now a man and becoming adept in the ways of medicine. I told him you had acquired power much stronger than that of the other young ones, that you would one day distinguish yourself among our people. Of course, I was joking to cheer the poor man up.”
White Man’s Dog smiled.
“Then I happened to notice Red Paint, who sat across the lodge engaged in her beadwork, and I mentioned that it was too bad our young women seem to favor these beads over quillwork. Yellow Kidney agreed with me but said Red Paint did it for others in exchange for goods. Then he became very sad and held up his fingerless hands and said that he was worse than useless to his family, that Red Paint would grow up poor and no man would have her.”
White Man’s Dog turned around to face the old man. Mik-api sucked on his pipe and looked out the entrance at nothing in particular. His eyes crinkled as though he were straining to see something.
“I felt sorry for the poor man and, like a fool, said that I might know somebody who would keep her well. Of course, that person would have to hunt for the whole family now. But now that I think on it, perhaps there is nobody that rich and powerful among the Lone Eaters. Perhaps Yellow Kidney will have to seek out such a person among the Small Brittle Fats or the Hard Topknots. I understand there are among them a few young men rich and powerful enough.”
“Would you speak for me, Mik-api?” White Man’s Dog heard the voice far away. His heart was too far in his throat for the words to come from him.
“Slow down, you foolish young one. You’re getting as bad as me. First, you must go to your father and mother and tell them of your intentions. If they agree, I will talk to Yellow Kidney. But what makes you think Red Paint would want such a fool?”
White Man’s Dog suddenly slumped back. He remembered Little Bird Woman, Crow Foot’s daughter. But only Double Strike Woman had mentioned her as a possible wife. Perhaps Rides-at-the-door and Crow Foot were not aware of such an arrangement. Nothing had happened. He had not even spoken to Little Bird Woman. White Man’s Dog jumped up. “I will speak with them now, Mik-api. I’ll be back.”
Double Strike Woman argued that it would be advantageous for the two families to be united; that Little Bird Woman was sought after by many men, young and old; that she was built to bear many children.
“Just think of Crow Foot. Many say he will be the next head chief of t
he Pikunis. They say he is already more important than Mountain Chief, because Mountain Chief is always on the run.”
“I don’t mind you wanting to marry off this young man, but next time you will consult with me before you do such a thing.” Rides-at-the-door was angry. Most of the time, he left things in the lodge up to his sits-beside-him wife, but he too had been thinking of his son’s future. In truth, he had been just as surprised, shocked even, as Double Strike Woman at White Man’s Dog’s request. He hadn’t known of his son’s interest in Red Paint. And if he were to be honest with himself, he would have admitted that the idea was not appealing to him, not because of Red Paint but because White Man’s Dog would have to provide for the entire family.
“I only want what is best for my son,” said Double Strike Woman. “If he were to marry into Crow Foot’s family, he would have more opportunities.”
“You can see he doesn’t want Little Bird Woman. He wants to marry Red Paint. He is a man now.”
“And what about Yellow Kidney? He will have to marry Yellow Kidney, too, and support him and that whole family! People will make jokes. People will say, There goes Rides-at-the-door’s son, he marries whole families.”
“And what about you, my son? Do you think you can take such jokes?”
“They will not joke for long,” said White Man’s Dog.
Rides-at-the-door studied his son.
Kills-close-to-the-lake looked up from her quillwork. She had been following the conversation intently. In the brief silence, she too studied White Man’s Dog. Without thinking about it, she had been anticipating this time when White Man’s Dog would leave the lodge. But she couldn’t believe it was actually happening. With him gone, there would be nothing left for her. But there had been nothing anyway—only his presence and some vague hope. Now it was all gone.
“Your mother and I give you our permission, son. You may propose a marriage to Red Paint and her family. She is a good young woman and will make you happy.”
White Man’s Dog sneaked a look at his mother, but she was busy cutting meat. He stood and walked to the entrance. “Thank you,” he said. He looked down at Kills-close-to-the-lake, but she was bent over her quillwork. “Thank you,” he said again. He ducked out of the lodge and ran all the way to Mik-api’s.
Four sleeps later the families got together and exchanged gifts. White Man’s Dog gave Yellow Kidney three of his best horses. His father gave Yellow Kidney four horses, three ropes of tobacco and a full headdress he had taken from a Parted Hair. Yellow Kidney gave White Man’s Dog four horses and a beaded shirt. He gave Rides-at-the-door five horses and a Napikwan saddle. Double Strike Woman gave Red Paint a pair of white beaded medallions for her hair. She hugged the girl briefly.
Earlier, Rides-at-the-door had presented his new many-shots gun to White Man’s Dog. “You’re going to have to do a lot of hunting now.” White Man’s Dog then gave his single-shot to his father. “Between you and Running Fisher, you now have two shots.”
White Man’s Dog had left nothing to chance. The day before, he had gone to the camp of the Grease Melters to look up a man who specialized in Liars’ Medicine. The man constructed two bark figures—a man and a woman—and poured the magic liquid between them. That would ensure good loving. He charged his client a large packhorse he had noticed during the trade.
Now, on the twenty-third day of the new-grass moon, Red Paint moved her things into the small tipi beside the big lodge of Rides-at-the-door. That night the families and friends feasted on boss ribs and tongues and buffalo hump. One of the men had brought a tin of the white man’s water, and the feast soon turned loud and boisterous. White Man’s Dog drank the liquor and talked and laughed, but he was a little disappointed that Kills-close-to-the-lake and Mik-api were not there. Mik-api had said, “I am an old man. Celebrations are for the young.” White Man’s Dog drank some more and laughed louder. Red Paint sat beside him, twirling her feather fan. All the noise had made her shy—but more than that, she couldn’t believe she was a married woman. Less than seven sleeps ago, marriage had been the furthest thing from her thoughts. She had sought only to help her mother prepare for the Sun Dance. Could it have been only seven sleeps ago that she had touched White Man’s Dog’s arm and smiled at him? Even then she had no thought that this might happen. And tonight—tonight they would go to their own lodge. She had thought occasionally of what it would be like to lie with a man, but there had been no reality to it. Her mother had said it would happen naturally and it would be good with the right man. Would White Man’s Dog be the right man? She glanced at him and his face was shiny with sweat and oil. He sensed her eyes on him and turned. For a moment they looked upon each other; for the first time they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Red Paint lowered her eyes to the twirling fan.
White Man’s Dog stood and walked outside. He walked away from the lodge and stood in a small field. He smelled the fresh bite of sage grass and looked up at the stars, trying to locate the Seven Persons. His head was fuzzy with the liquor, but he became aware of a small hand on his. “The Seven Persons do not look upon us tonight,” he said softly.
“They ride to the west, over there,” said a voice that did not sound right to his ears. He turned and looked into the face of Kills-close-to-the-lake. Although she had not been at the feast, she was wearing her elkskin dress and rose medallions in her hair. The sharp sage grass gave way to the scent that made him light-headed. She said, “I am very happy for you, White Man’s Dog. I wish you to have this.” And she turned and hurried off into the dark.
He watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore. Then he unfurled the object. It was a soft-tanned scabbard for his new rifle. In the faint light of the fire-lit lodges, he could just make out the quillwork thunderbird design. Then the design blurred and he wiped his eyes.
Some time between the moon of flowers and Home Days, with the high hot sun turning the grass from green to pale straw, the Pikuni people began to pack up their camps to begin the four-day journey to Four Persons Butte near the Milk River. Here, the Sacred Vow Woman and her helpers had determined to build a lodge for the Sun Chief, and here they meant to honor him with sacred ceremonies, songs and dances.
Heavy Shield Woman had purchased the Medicine Woman bundle from her predecessor, and her relatives in the camps had procured the sacred bull blackhorn tongues.
On the first day the people assembled near the confluence of the Two Medicine River and Birch Creek. Most of the bands arrived within the compass of the midmorning and midafternoon sun. As each band arrived, members of the All Crazy Dogs, the police society, showed them where to set up. Soon a great circle was formed, as the last of the bands, the Never Laughs, filled the perimeter. The Sacred Vow Woman’s lodge was erected in the center and Heavy Shield Woman entered. Then the camp crier rode among the lodges, calling forth all the women who had vowed to come forward to the tongues. He beat his small drum and called for their husbands to accompany them. He stopped before the lodge of Heard-by-both-sides Woman, who had been a Sacred Vow Woman two years earlier, and called her to instruct Heavy Shield Woman in her duties.
When the chosen had been assembled in the lodge, Heard-by-both-sides Woman lifted one of the tongues above her head and asked Sun Chief to affirm that she had been virtuous in all things. All of the women did this. Then the dried tongues were boiled and cut up and placed in parfleches. Heavy Shield Woman began her fast.
The next day she led the procession to the second camp. On her travois she carried the Medicine Woman bundle and the sacred tongues. Four days they camped in four different locations, arriving at last on a flat plain beneath Four Persons Butte. Each day Yellow Kidney and the many-faces man, wise in the ritual of the Sun Dance, purified themselves in the sweat lodge.
The dawn of the fifth day, Low Horn, a celebrated warrior and scout, left his lodge, saddled his buffalo-runner and galloped down off the plain to the valley of the Milk River. As he rode, he examined the big-leaf trees around him. Across the river he s
potted one that interested him. It was stout but not too thick. It was true and forked at just the right height. He looked at the tree, the way the sun struck it, and decided it was the chosen one.
When he reached camp—by now everyone was up and the breakfast fires were lit—he rode among the lodges, calling to the men of the Braves society. He ate a chunk of meat while the others saddled their horses. Then he led them back to the spot. Everybody-talks-about-him had been selected to chop it down, and he set upon it with his ax. He had killed many enemies. At midmorning, his bare back shiny with sweat, he gave a final blow and the tree groaned and swayed and toppled into a stand of willows. The men who had been waiting jumped upon the tree and began to slash and hack, cutting off the limbs as though they were the arms and legs of their enemies. Not too long ago, these would have been traditional enemies; now, more than one of the Braves was killing the encroaching Napikwans.
Heavy Shield Woman sat in the Sacred Vow lodge, her face drawn and gray with her fast. Soon it would be over, but the thought of food had become distant and distasteful. She listened to her helpers talk quietly among themselves, but the words were not clear to her ears. She prayed to the Above Ones, to the Below Ones and to the four directions for strength and courage, but each time she began her prayers, her mind drifted and she saw her husband as he had appeared at her lodge door after his long absence. She had greeted him with high feelings, with much crying, hugging and wailing. She was overjoyed to have her man return. But later, as they sat quietly, she had been surprised to feel only pity for him. He was not the strong warrior who had left camp in that moon of the falling leaves. This man was a shadow who looked at her with stone eyes, who no longer showed feelings of love or hate or even warmth. And he had not changed in the ensuing moons. He was no longer a lover, hardly even a father to his children. Was he still a man? Had a bad spirit taken him over? But she, Heavy Shield Woman, had changed too.
