Buffalo Medicine

by Don Coldsmith

  Perhaps that would be not entirely bad. There were innumerable hiding places among the rocks and trees of the area. The fugitive would be in jeopardy from the Hairfaces, from the Mud Lodge people, and, if he traveled eastward far enough, from the Head Splitters. None of these people, Owl believed, would be traveling in the mountains to any extent, during the moons of the Cold Maker.

  He would travel, he decided, north and east, but careful to remain in rough enough country to provide shelter and concealment. Then, if he determined that there was actually no pursuit, he could select and prepare a shelter for the winter months.

  The moon was rising now, red and just past full. Owl waited until the light grew stronger, and started on again. As he traveled, he realized, he must devise weapons, and secure food and garments. He had no doubts at all about his ability to accomplish this. In fact, Owl was so pleased with his situation that he was ready to burst into song at any time. When the laughing call of his medicine animal, the coyote, came echoing across the canyon, the relief of tension was too much. He stopped, threw back his head, and yodeled back an answer for pure joy of being alive and free.

  When daylight came he saw beaver ponds below him, and turned down the slope. The animals had been cutting in a stand of cottonwoods, dragging brush for their dams and to store for winter under the ice. Owl searched for some time before he found the object that he needed. A piece of cottonwood, cut cleanly at the ends by the beavers. It was slightly shorter than his arm, and in diameter somewhat less than his wrist. He hefted the club and found that it balanced well.

  It had been years since he had used a throwing stick, but the familiar feel brought his muscles into coordination. Owl flung the stick with a full-armed sweep at a stump a few paces away, and was pleased at the accuracy of the throw. It bounced off with a hollow thunk and he stepped over to retrieve it.

  Now he was armed. True, it was with a childish weapon, used mostly among the People for the amusement of children. Still, the throwing stick could be effective. Most families of the People welcomed the addition to their food supply which small game provided. This was also a matter of prestige among the young. The first kill of nearly every hunter was a fat rabbit, knocked over with the thrown stick. This could lead to a great deal of honor among one’s peers in the Rabbit Society.

  So, with a great deal of confidence, Owl continued his journey. He had managed to find another well-balanced stick in case he lost one.

  Returning to the ridge, he spent some time on a high rock, searching the entire area. There was no sign of pursuit, and he began to relax on that score. He must still be watchful, but immediate danger seemed minimal. He evaluated the landscape to better formulate his plans. Blue ridges, one beyond another, could be seen in all directions. It was obvious that the higher, snow-capped ranges were to the west, but there were many days’ travel of rough country anywhere he looked. Owl was pleased to see no smoke in the still morning air. It would be very unlikely that anyone in these mountains would be anything but dangerous to him.

  Perhaps two days’ distance to the northeast lay an area of rough broken ridges covered with a heavy growth of pine and fir. It was not the sort of locale in which a group of people would spend a winter. That was exactly what made Owl consider it ideal for one lone fugitive. It lay in his direction of travel anyway.

  Behind him a jay scolded, and he dropped quickly to his belly to peer over the rock’s edge. It was only a doe and her half-grown fawn, stepping daintily across the ridge. Owl watched them out of sight, needing the food, shelter and clothing they represented. He must wait, though, for that sort of kill, until he could contrive better weapons. He rose and traveled on.

  Two more stops he made that day. The first was to investigate a rocky outcrop below the crest of the ridge. He was delighted to find that the formation of white stone contained a vein of the substance he sought. It was a good grade of flint. With another stone he battered at the blue-gray streak until he had a pile of chips from which to choose. He selected several good-sized flakes, seeing in his mind’s eye knives for cutting, spear points, and arrowheads. Owl was certainly not as skilled in the shaping of weapons as old Stone Breaker of the People, but he understood the principles involved.

  The handful of sharp flint became clumsy to carry, and finally Owl discarded all but the best fragments. He removed his breechclout and used it to wrap a bundle of the remaining flints. The thong from his waist now held the packet with one of the throwing sticks over his shoulder as he started on.

  The second stop was prompted by hunger. He observed a bear eating berries and turned aside to try them himself. White Buffalo had always impressed him with the fact that anything bears eat can be eaten by people. The berries grew in profusion along the stream, but were coarse and bitter, very unsatisfying to his empty stomach. In fact, he had not thought much of food until now, but began to have pangs of hunger, prompted by the abortive attempt.

  He climbed back toward the better traveling on the ridge, and heard the chattering of a squirrel. He turned aside again, and soon saw several of the dark gray animals with long tufted ears, actively harvesting pine seeds. Owl picked up a cone, and pried a few seeds out to taste. They had a nutlike flavor, although they tasted strongly of the resin of the pine tree.

  He decided this might provide sustenance, but his real desire was for red meat. He had feared for some time that his teeth were loosening, and his gums were constantly sore. Clearly, his craving for meat must be satisfied. After several tries, he managed to knock over two of the fat squirrels. They were smaller than the fox squirrels in the canyons of his prairie country, but appeared acceptable fare.

  Owl had decided that he could chance a fire, so he carried the squirrels and selected an open spot on the ridge. Carefully he chose dead twigs that would burn without much smoke. The light breeze would rapidly disperse that. Dried grass and a handful of cedar bark for tinder completed his preparations.

  From the south exposure of a nearby slope he obtained a couple of dry yucca stems for rubbing sticks. His fire-bow was bent from a willow branch and strung with the thong from his breechclout. In a short while a fire was crackling while he skinned and cleaned the squirrels. The skins were carefully saved.

  Owl found that the meat tasted of pine resin, probably due to the animal’s diet. Still, when one’s stomach needs meat, he reflected, who is to worry about the taste of a little pine?

  He finished his meal and extinguished the fire before gathering his small store of belongings for travel. It had been a good day, Owl thought. He had started with absolutely nothing, and now had weapons, fire-making sticks, the necessary material for making more tools, and had eaten satisfactorily. Yes, the day had gone well.

  As Sun Boy’s torch slipped behind the snow-capped range to the west, Owl moved on, placing distance between him and the obliterated cooking fire.

  16

  The general area that Owl had observed as his immediate goal proved not two days’ travel, but more than twice that. He was accustomed to estimating across grassland. The uneven, almost vertical nature of some of the terrain made travel much slower than he had anticipated. In addition, the illusion of nearness in the rarefied air was deceiving.

  After the first day of travel Owl realized the error of his estimate and changed his plans somewhat. He would stop on high ground to observe his back trail, and spend a day or two in hunting and improving his weapons.

  He was also becoming concerned about protection from the elements. So far the weather had been uncommonly fine, but he was apprehensive. Almost any day Cold Maker might whimsically unleash a puff of cold rain, sleet, or even snow. Owl had no desire to be caught with merely a breechclout to shelter his body. Not even that, for the moment, since he was using it as a carrying bundle.

  He noticed some bleached and scattered bones to his right a few paces, and turned aside to investigate. The bones were apparently from a deer, and judging from their well-gnawed and scattered condition, had been there for many moons.
Owl continued to search, however, and finally found the skull, partially hidden under a juniper bush. He was elated by the find. The animal had been a yearling buck, and the slender antlers, only as long as his finger, were exactly what he needed. With a small boulder, he succeeded in breaking the spikes from the skull. They would become tools for chipping flint.

  Owl spent a time with his new find, experimentally chipping small flakes from one of the pieces of stone in his bundle. He had used the sharp edge of this flint as a makeshift knife to skin the squirrels, but now refined the shape. It was tempting to continue working with the flints, but hunger pangs told him he must seek food.

  He was not so fortunate as on the previous day. Searching as he traveled, Owl saw hardly a living thing, except a soaring hawk. He ate a quantity of pine seeds, and a handful of the berries he had tried yesterday. Remembering the bears’ habit of overturning dead logs looking for food, he tried that. He examined the fat white grubs underneath, and decided he was not that hungry yet. Still, he remembered the tales of the old medicine man. Long before Owl was born, before they had elk-dogs to help with the hunt, the People had frequently used these and similar items as survival food. He would keep that in mind, but for just now, he hoped for better fare.

  As Sun Boy’s torch sank lower, Owl sought a place to spend the night, a sheltered spot against the south face of a sun-warmed rock. Preferably a dark-colored stone, since it would attract and hold more of the warmth from the heavenly torch. He selected his location, and built a small fire before dark. He had no need for a fire, nothing to cook, but it warmed his body and cheered him considerably. It was odd, he thought, how the dancing flames from even a tiny fire could raise one’s spirits. He lifted his voice in the short song of the medicine man to the departing Sun Boy, the Thanks-for-Fire song.

  Owl was careful to extinguish the blaze before darkness came, so the firelight could not be seen. He did not believe he was pursued, but took no chances. As he warmed himself over the dying embers, he thought again how satisfying it had been to enjoy the Fire song. He had not realized until now how very much he had missed the small daily rituals of the medicine man. Survival had been the most important thing in his life for many moons.

  Now, cold and hungry though he might be, he could again enjoy some of the niceties of a cultured existence. These were his thoughts as he drifted to sleep.

  He awoke with a start. The moon had risen, and a thin light illuminated the hollow below him. Owl kept very still for a moment, unsure of what had awakened him. It had been a noise, below him in the sparse trees. His hand closed on this throwing stick as he listened intently. The rock at his back was still warm. He pressed against it, shivering slightly from anticipation as well as the chill of the night air.

  The sound came again. A rustling, chewing sound, which now seemed to come from near the top of a pine tree little taller than his head. Owl relaxed somewhat. An animal small enough to climb a tree no bigger than that would not likely be dangerous. He move silently away from the rock, and circled the tree. Soon he could see the irregular shape against the sky. A porcupine, methodically girdling the bark from the young tree, turned to look at him.

  Owl was elated. The animal would certainly be acceptable food, and should be easy to kill. The porcupine moved slowly, secure in the protection of its sharp quills. It climbed down the tree and waddled across an open area, heading for cover and concealment.

  Owl circled warily, cautious of the barbed quills, but wanting the confrontation in a place where he could swing his club. The animal paused, threatening, turning its spiked tail toward the enemy. The tail lashed back and forth. Owl came close and dodged in, evading the lashing quills as he struck. One good blow across the porcupine’s head, then another to make sure.

  He knew better than to risk his fingers trying to skin the spiny creature in the dark. It could wait until morning.

  Now that the excitement was over, Owl realized that the weather had grown considerably colder. He shivered as he retreated to the shelter of his rock.

  After spending some time in trying to warm himself against the now cooling stone surface, Owl made a momentous decision. He would be forced to relight his fire. This was a sheltered spot, not visible for any distance, and the moonlight would lessen the chance of anyone seeing the reflection. Besides, he attempted uneasily to reassure himself, surely no Hairfaces would be wandering the mountains to search in the middle of the time of darkness. Nor would any other people who might prove dangerous, he reasoned, although not entirely convinced. One thing was certain. If he died from exposure such decisions would be meaningless. He took out his rubbing sticks and started to rotate the spindle in its socket.

  He blew the ember into flame and added tinder and small sticks. When the fire was crackling cheerfully, he made a circuit around the entire area. He was pleased that he could see very little reflection of the fire from only a short distance away. And, perhaps more importantly, he had seen no one else’s fire. The Hairfaces, he had noticed, built big fires. This had, in fact, been a joke among the prisoners. Their captors built large fires, and thus must stand well back, remaining cold. One could be much more comfortable over a small, well-tended blaze.

  Owl, seeing no sign of other human presence, returned to add a few more small sticks to his own fire. He decided to utilize the situation, and dragged the porcupine carcass to where the firelight would illuminate the skinning process. His newly shaped flint knife performed well on the tough hide, and soon the skinned and gutted carcass was roasting on a stick. By daylight Owl had eaten well and saved some meat for the day ahead.

  He was tempted to save the sharp spines of the animal’s tail. The women of the People used the dyed quills for ornamentation of garments and various other items. Owl knew little of such things, but knew that his mother had always carefully hoarded any such quills she was able to acquire. Finally, amused at his own attitude, he threw the spines away, After all, what can one decorate if he has nothing?

  The skin of the animal he saved, as he prepared again to travel.

  17

  Owl had decided to travel on. There seemed to be little game in this immediate area anyway. He was badly in need of the skin of some large animal for shelter. A deer or elk, perhaps. He had seen deer at a little distance, but did not have the weapons for an attempt at a kill.

  With this in mind, he kept a lookout for more beaver cuttings and before Sun Boy was overhead had selected a spear shaft. The sapling had been dropped by the beavers where it had been cut, probably to cut up later or drag away to the dam. Owl trimmed off leaves and small twigs, and then laboriously sawed the pole to length with his newly shaped knife.

  He stopped early for the day, and built a fire to warm the earth where he would sleep. His major purpose for an early camp, however, was to complete his spear. He had been working on a spear point whenever he stopped, and it was now nearing completion.

  Ideally, he realized, he should soak one of his skins in water and ashes to remove the hair, but this would take several days. His need for rawhide to bind the spear was more urgent. He compromised by cutting narrow strips from the skin of the porcupine and singeing the course hair over the fire.

  Stone Breaker, the expert weapons maker of the Elk-dog band of the People, would have been amused at the makeshift spear. He would have agreed, however, that it was serviceable. The improvised binding was bulky and crude, but was secure, and would shrink even more tightly as it dried. Now Owl felt ready to try for a deer kill when opportunity offered.

  He chewed the remaining meat of the porcupine as twilight fell. It was still tough and tasted of pine, but filled the belly.

  This night was warmer than the last, but Owl was glad to see the torch of Sun Boy once more. He must find something today for shelter. Even with the fire cautiously burning all night, he had become chilled to the bone.

  The kill, when it came, was in a very unexpected fashion. Owl noticed magpies noisily fluttering and screaming around a clump of willows, and
cautiously crept down to investigate. He could see nothing until, spear at the ready, he parted the leaves and peered into the thicket.

  The carcass of an elk lay in the brush, partially covered with sticks and leaves. Hair bristled on the back of Owl’s neck as he glanced anxiously around. He saw nothing, and ventured to look closer at the kill. To pull down an animal as big as an elk, the hunter must be the great bear with white-tipped fur, the real-bear. A cougar, too, might make this sort of kill, he thought.

  On closer inspection, all the while warily on guard, he saw that the elk was an old cow, probably weakened by age or infirmity. The soft underparts had been eaten away. Owl circled until he found evidence of tracks, and at last identified the hunter. The footprints were those of the great cat.

  He was in no immediate danger unless the cougar returned to find him at its kill. The kill was fresh, and Owl knew that the habit of the real-cat was to gorge immediately and then retire to sleep off the stupor. The sleeping place might be far away, and the cat might not return for a day or two. Perhaps not even then, if a convenient new kill offered elsewhere. Owl should be completely safe as he attempted to salvage what remained of the kill.

  This did not prevent him from being uneasy. He dropped his bundle of assorted possessions and began to work as rapidly as possible. He had no desire to be here when the cougar returned. Desperately though he needed this kill, he had no intention of meeting a real-cat in hand to claw combat for possession of it. Therefore, his actions were quick and decisive.

  Deftly he split the skin up the belly, and stripped it from the carcass. There were holes and cuts from the cat’s claws, but it was basically intact. It was necessary to roll the carcass over to pull the skin from under. This Owl accomplished by using a foreleg as a lever. His experience in the butchering drudgery while a prisoner of the Head Splitters now stood him in good stead. As expertly as any woman of the People, he trimmed out the best remaining cuts, tossing them on the raw side of the freshly skinned hide. He gulped a few mouthfuls of liver as he worked, his body starved for the nutrition of good red meat.