by Karen Kay
Hardly believing she might never see Yellow Swan again, Marietta threw her arms around the other woman. “I will miss you. I will miss your quiet demeanor, your wisdom, your companionship. But most of all I will miss our friendship. Please think of me from time to time.”
Yellow Swan was crying. “I…will. I, too, will…miss…you. But this one…” she pointed to herself, “…must…go. Husband…wait.”
“I know. Still… I wish I had something to give you, but I don’t. Nothing except my petticoat. It is yours.” She handed her the garment. “Think of me whenever you see it.”
“I…will…” Yellow Swan turned away then, and the two women were gone, quickly disappearing into the landscape.
Marietta fell back into Grey Coyote’s arms. There were tears in her eyes when she became aware that Yellow Swan had left her a gift. Marietta saw it there amongst her things. Yellow Swan had taken a piece of wood and fashioned it and whittled it until it resembled two figures of friends holding hands.
Marietta cried. She would miss her friend.
It was time for her to help Grey Coyote confront his ghosts, to set his people free. Somehow the beast was all tied up in this. Exactly how, she didn’t know. She only was aware that without him, the spell could not be broken. They had to find him.
To this end, she and Grey Coyote had backtracked toward the fort, both of them scouring the ground, looking for the beast’s tracks.
“I will find his trail,” Grey Coyote said. “It has not yet been a week, and it has not rained. The earth will still hold the impression of those who walk over her.”
“Yes, but how do you know where to start?”
Grey Coyote gazed up at her. “There are some facts we possess. One is that we tracked this man, the beast, to this post. Laidlaw must have seen him, for I am certain nothing comes in or out of his post which is unknown to him. Yet, Laidlaw would not tell you where the beast went.”
“Yes, I remember him telling me that.”
“Why would he not?” asked Grey Coyote.
“I don’t know.”
Grey Coyote set his features in a frown. “It was the asking of that question which has caused me to believe this: The beast works for Laidlaw.”
“The beast? Works for Laidlaw?”
“I believe it is so. It would explain why Laidlaw would not help you. It would also excuse why Laidlaw was intent on getting you as far away from the post as possible.”
Perplexed, Marietta furrowed her brow. “But I thought he was trying to do me a favor, although he went about it in an unusual way.”
Grey Coyote stared at her hard. “It is possible he was doing you a favor, but you must try to think like this man—if only for a short while. Could a man who would order the death of another, without thought, without conscience, be also a man of benevolence?”
“I don’t know. Could he?”
“I do not think so. Men who require other men to do their killing for them, rather than confront the deed themselves, are not quite human. In my opinion, they are not social, are less than an animal, for such men have no concept that there are things in life which are right, things that help others and all creation. Such men deal in destruction, not creation.”
“You do have interesting ideas, my husband.”
“These are my thoughts. I could be wrong. But if it is true that Laidlaw hires others to do his killing for him, then he would not be above hiring the beast to work for him, also.”
Marietta inclined her head. “I see.”
“Therefore, we will most likely find the beast close to Fort Pierre. But if not, we should be able to discover his trail there and pursue him.”
“Hmmm. But still, is it safe to go that close to Fort Pierre? You realize they might see you, and if they do, you will be shot on the spot.”
Grey Coyote nodded. “You are right. It is not safe. Therefore, we will be careful.”
“Yes,” said Marietta. “Let us be very, very careful.”
It was dark when at last Grey Coyote was able to pick up the beast’s trail.
“He is proceeding south and keeping to the river, where there is a good cover of trees,” said Grey Coyote. “I suspect he is en route to each major trading post along the river, for I still think he is accomplishing some duty for Laidlaw.”
“But why?” asked Marietta. “What could he be doing?”
Grey Coyote shrugged. “I do not know, unless it is to spy on other companies, and perhaps to create havoc. My brother-in-law has told me how the big companies spy on one another, for the jealousy between them is high. But come, I do not wish to confront this man at any one of these trading posts. Let us track him to his own hideaway.”
“But isn’t that a little too dangerous?” she asked. “After all, we know this man is capable of murder. Are you certain you want to enter his encampment alone?”
“I do not intend to. I wish merely to find it. And once I locate it, I will set mantraps all around it. And if I have to, I will do this each night until I catch the beast. Then from the safety of the trap, I will question him, until I can learn what he possesses which might end my people’s curse.”
“I see,” said Marietta. “What is a mantrap?”
“It is a trap like any other used to catch animals. But a mantrap must be placed in such a way that a human being will not suspect it. However, unlike animal traps, a mantrap is not used to kill, simply to bring to bay. They have great value, for when one is in enemy territory, one can arrange mantraps around his own shelter as protection.”
“Brilliant. But what are they? I mean, how do you outwit a man?”
“By the use of snares,” he replied, “or sometimes pits are used, covered with a blanket of dirt so they are invisible to the eye. The snare will catch a man’s foot, causing him to hang by it. The pit speaks for itself.”
“So if I understand you correctly, you will make a trap, catch this beast, and then from a safe distance, question him?”
“That is my plan.”
She thought a moment. “But what if he won’t talk to you?”
Grey Coyote shrugged. “He may not. I can only hope he will.”
“Very well. I think it is a fine plan.”
“Waste, good,” said Grey Coyote. “We have only to follow his trail now, locate his hideout, and then I will set up these traps.”
Marietta nodded. “Lead on.”
Immediately, they set out, following the earthen impressions, the two of them gliding ghostlike across the moonlit landscape.
It was raining. Above Grey Coyote, dark clouds ruled the night while lightning streaked through the sky. The wind had become so strong that it rocked him almost off his feet, and thunder rolled menacingly through the heavens, as though to give warning.
But this was no omen. No, this was the Thunderer, perhaps even other gods, come to mock him.
However, the thunder and lightning, though annoying, did little to deter Grey Coyote. If anything, these things gave him encouragement. To his way of thinking, they confirmed he was on the right path.
Only hours ago, he had located the beast’s encampment. Though it was almost impossible to estimate the time of night, for there were no stars overhead, Grey Coyote figured there were still several hours left before sunrise. Within such a timeframe, he must erect several mantraps.
Before he began his work in earnest, however, Grey Coyote had set up a temporary dwelling for Marietta, instructing her to stay within it. He had left her with plenty of work to do, as well—for she would fashion the ropes he would need for his snares. She had protested being left behind, of course, insisting she be allowed to help him. But Grey Coyote had denied her. He was taking no chances; she would have no contact with the beast.
Though their shared vision inferred they must both confront the beast, it did not necessarily follow he should endanger her life. He would confront the beast first, tie him up, make it safe. Only then would he allow Marietta access to the beast.
“But how will yo
u break the enchantment if I am not there?” she had asked. “Remember, I am a part of this.”
“And so you will be,” Grey Coyote had responded. “When the beast is tied, and I am certain he can do no harm, I will guess the riddle. You will be there then.”
“Hmmm. But what if you require my help before that?”
“I will call you. This shelter is not far from his encampment.”
With a sigh, Marietta had at last agreed.
Leaving Marietta to construct the ropes he would require, Grey Coyote had set to work forthwith, fixing his snares, tying the lines to trees big enough that they would hold a huge man. When there wasn’t a tree large enough for a snare at a particular spot, Grey Coyote had tied the ropes around two or three smaller trees.
Throughout, the rain pounded on him, and his fingers slipped over the knots he made, but he patiently kept on. He could not stop.
At length, he was satisfied with what he had done so far. However, he still had one trap left to construct. When that was done, he would await the results of his handiwork…from a safe distance.
The storm, meanwhile, had worsened. It began to hail, and although dawn approached, the sky was as black and as dark as night. A bolt of lightning crashed close to hand, shaking the earth, causing the trees to tremble, but Grey Coyote ignored it, certain it was the Thunderer, mocking him yet again.
Suddenly, he heard a scream, high-pitched and filled with terror.
A scream?
Marietta… She was in trouble.
How had he not foreseen this? Why had he not anticipated this?
Jumping to his feet, Grey Coyote crashed forward through the undergrowth and trees, uncaring that such haste would announce his approach. It didn’t matter. He had to get there.
A burst of light followed by an explosion that shook the ground accompanied the beast as he rushed in upon her.
Marietta screamed and kept on screaming as the bear-like creature pulled her up by her hair and flung her to the ground. Where had he come from? He had taken her completely by surprise.
She stayed there on the ground, hoping against hope that the creature would simply go away. Then suddenly something big and hard came down to hit her in the head, and looking up, she beheld a broken-toothed smile in a horribly scratched and bearded face, before with one last terrible scream, she fainted.
The beast held Grey Coyote’s wife within its grasp. From where he stood, Grey Coyote could see it all.
Was Marietta alive? From this distance, he couldn’t discern her fate. He only knew she didn’t move.
His heart sank. She had to be alive. She must be alive.
He realized he would have to kill the beast. Now.
Forget the riddle; forget that he knew not what the beast possessed, or that thing which he himself must possess. Never mind that by killing the beast, he would fail himself and his people…forever.
Nothing was more important than the safety of his wife.
Grey Coyote drew up his bow, but he hesitated. Could he really endanger his tribe? Throw away his lifetime of training? Could he live with what would assuredly be his failure?
But then, all other thoughts were swept away from him. The man-beast had pulled off Marietta’s remaining clothing, not caring that she was getting hurt in the process.
He meant to rape her.
Casting all doubts and concerns aside, Grey Coyote went into action. With his bow already in hand he quickly positioned an arrow against it and released it, followed by another arrow, another and another, one after the other. So quickly did he shoot them, the sky might have been raining arrows.
But the man had not been compared to a bear merely because of size. He was impossible to kill, and like with a bear, Grey Coyote’s arrows served to do no more than anger him.
Letting go of Marietta, the beast staggered forward, toward Grey Coyote. Though Grey Coyote had allowed himself a reserve of arrows, it was not long before he was fitting the last one to his bow.
Still the man-beast kept on.
“What is it you possess that I must have?” shouted Grey Coyote at it, as though the brute held all the answers.
But the man didn’t answer, roaring instead, “I will kill you.”
Bow drawn back, ready for action, Grey Coyote yelled, “Though I would rather die than let you take my wife, it will not be I who dies this night. It is you, my friend. You.”
“Never,” said the beast.
“Come no farther,” bellowed Grey Coyote, “for if you do, this arrow goes straight to your heart.”
But the beast ignored him. “Come no farther,” shouted Grey Coyote again. His words were to no avail. The beast was close enough to take a swipe at him and did so. This was it, then. Grey Coyote let go his last arrow…into the creature’s heart.
The beast screamed, stopped, then reeled forward. Grey Coyote jumped back and threw the last thing that he had at the man—his bow.
He prepared himself for a fight. But it never happened. The beast fell to the ground, dead.
Tentatively, Grey Coyote stepped toward him, using his foot to turn the man over. He expelled a deep breath.
It was done. It was over. As was his chance—
But he drove the thought from his mind. Marietta—was she alive?
Grey Coyote sprinted toward Marietta’s side. Throwing himself to the ground beside her, he picked her up, feeling for a heartbeat.
It was there. Faint, but it was there.
Without a word, he nestled her into his arms, tears streaming down his face. Holding her against him, he began to caress her, running his hands up and down her back, over to the sides of her body, up to her neck, her head.
“Are you hurt?” he asked at last, not expecting a response.
She shook her head, and he thought his heart would burst with grief, for there was horror, as well as tears, in her eyes.
“I am so sorry,” he said. “Vision or none, I should never have brought you here.”
But Marietta was crying too, and between sobs, she said, “How can I ever forgive myself? It is I who have failed you. The beast is gone. How will you end the curse for—?”
Before she could finish, the wind began to blow even more fiercely than it had during the storm. So strong was it, the very clouds above them parted, revealing a single morning star.
The sun had started to rise. Almost at once, a golden ray of sunlight shone down, enveloping them within its beam. Within that circle of sunshine, figures of other people were beginning to emerge, misty images at first, but then, even as Grey Coyote watched, the forms became more and more corporeal.
“My wife,” said Grey Coyote, and there was surprise in his voice. “I recognize these people. They are my own clan. How? What is happening?”
From the sky above them came the vision of the spirit coyote, and as it drifted toward the earth, it sang a haunting refrain:
“Neither small nor large, nor wide, nor narrow, the beast possessed a thing that propelled Grey Coyote toward freedom. Though the beast possessed her and though Grey Coyote possessed her also, and she possessed him, he sacrificed all that he was and had ever been, or would ever be, because in his heart, there was love.
“Grey Coyote has ended the curse.”
He had broken the enchantment? Emotion, elation, grief, thanksgiving, flooded through him, overwhelming him. Not knowing what else to do, he bent his head so his face was hidden within Marietta’s golden locks, and despite himself, he cried.
Chapter Twenty
A great council was called that very night. All the important clan members were present, including Grey Coyote’s own father. Within that circle sat White Claw, the tribal medicine man and Grey Coyote’s grandfather. Grey Coyote reposed next to this man, and though it was not often allowed, Marietta was positioned next to Grey Coyote.
A pipe was lit, White Claw offering the smoke to the four directions and to the Above Ones. Then it was passed to each member of the counsel, including Marietta.
She, too, would smoke. For without her, the curse might never have been broken.
At last, when the necessities of council were dispensed with according to ritual, White Claw spoke. “We honor you, Spirit Raven, or as you are known to your adopted people, Grey Coyote. You have done what others before you failed to do. You have broken the curse that enslaved your clan. Your people will now be free to live the lives they were meant to live.”
Grey Coyote nodded.
“We honor also the woman you have brought to us,” continued White Claw. “We will sing songs praising her and you, so long as we exist.”
Grey Coyote acknowledged only by lowering his eyes.
“And now,” continued White Claw, “I feel, grandson, that you have questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability, but know I cannot stay here long, for there are others who are still entrapped within the mist. And while this is so, I cannot rest. However, I am here now, and I will help you as best I can, to help you understand what has happened.”
“Thank you, Grandfather,” said Grey Coyote. “There is something I would like to know. I heard the spirit coyote’s song, I heard his words, but I do not understand how it was I broke the curse. I thought I would need to guess the riddle correctly. Was this not true?”
“But, grandson,” White Claw voiced sagely, “you did guess correctly. That you said not the words has no significance.”
“But how, Grandfather? What did I do? In my own mind, I thought I was sacrificing myself and the tribe, for I acted against what I have been led to believe I must do to end our plight.”
Again, White Claw inclined his head. “Sometimes, grandson, the best within us is shown, not with the head, but with the heart. You did discover what this man possessed, your wife, and you did act on it, despite what you thought was the right thing to do. Your sacrifice, grandson, was completely selfless.”
Grey Coyote lowered his gaze, as was customary when understanding had been reached.
“And now,” began White Claw, “you must answer a question for me.”
