by Mike Blakely
The men threw colored sticks on hides staked to the ground, and wagered ponies and robes and lodge poles and slave wives on which colors would turn up. And every day, horse races began with the sun overhead and lasted until dark.
The races made the Noomah boys ride well, and trained the ponies for battle. One race was ten arrow shots in length and would make the ponies return wearing coats of sweat. In another race, the riders would start at a line scraped on the ground and ride toward a single tree, two arrow flights away. As they neared the tree, the riders would clash, pushing and pulling one another from their ponies at full gallop, for the winner would be the first rider to touch the tree.
Horseback devised a third kind of race. He stretched two rawhide straps waist-high above the ground, the second strap only three paces from the first. The riders had to jump the first strap, landing between the two without touching the second, then jump back out the way they had come to return to the starting place. Horseback was never beaten at this race, for he knew how to make his pony run fast, then spring high, then stop and turn, then jump again.
In another race, the riders tied a pole between two trees, chest-high to a rider. The racers ran two at a time, and the winner was the first to bring his pony to a full stop and touch the pole. The two riders would gallop toward the pole at full speed, each warrior wanting the other to be the first to pull rein. Many times, they waited too late, and ran their ponies under the pole, which knocked them to the ground. The elders from the Old Men’s Smoke Lodge loved to laugh at the boys unhorsed in this race, but the game taught the young riders how to stop their ponies short.
There were many good horse-warriors at this great camp-together, yet there were many good foot-warriors as well. The foot-warriors played their own games and gambled at their own contests of skill. Holding their arrows together with their bow, they would first shoot an arrow high into the sky above their heads, then fling more arrows and keep flinging them until the first arrow had come back to earth. The winner was the warrior who could make the most arrows fly before the first fell to earth.
It was a good time, yet some of the elders were not happy. They did not like the changes brought about by so many horses. The young horsebacks were beginning to talk louder around the camp at Icy-Water Creek, and the elders did not like their talk. Horseback knew a great council would convene to decide the future.
“Where is Sandhill?” he said, as his wife came near.
Teal rode up to him, pushing through the ring of horses that had come to listen to her husband’s speech. “Your son is with my mother. She teaches him about Wolf and Coyote.”
“Tsah. Now, why have you ridden out here so swiftly? I am in council with my ponies.”
“I have heard talk in the village. Some of the young horsebacks want to move the camp to find more grass. The elders do not want to move because there is much food here. There will be a council to decide it, my husband, just as you have prophesied.”
“My speech is ready.”
“There is more talk. Some of the young warriors want to move far to the south—all the way to the River of Arrowheads. They want to see the places my husband has spoken of. And to make war on the Na-vohnuh.”
Horseback’s eyes darted with excitement as he reached for the reins of the horse he had ridden out of camp. “My wife listens well. For five winters I have waited for this day, and this council. I know the elders will not agree to move, but maybe the time comes for the new nation of my vision to break away from the old. Perhaps the spirits have shaped this camp-together so the new nation will take horse-warriors from the Corn People, the Burnt Meat People, and the Wild Sage People, yet leave each band with their foot-warriors who follow the ways of the elders.” He mounted in one familiar, fluid movement.
“My husband thinks too much of days to come. Let the spirits decide.”
“The spirits have decided.”
Approaching the village, Horseback his son, Sandhill, coming from the lodge of his mother-in-law. The boy raised his arms, a signal to his father. Smiling with pride, Horseback loped past one side of his son, reached low, grabbed the boy’s arm and swung him up behind him on the pony.
“Look, my mother!” Sandhill said, riding with his hands in the air, holding nothing. “Ye-ye-ye-ye!”
“Tsah!” Teal shouted. “Good!”
“I am going to take our son to stay with Looks Away while I prepare for the council,” Horseback said. He could feel the excitement in the camp, and knew the men were finding their finest skins, combing their hair with brushes made from porcupine tails, and weaving fresh feathers into their scalp locks.
At his father’s lodge, he swung Sandhill down from the pad saddle and left his pony standing. “Go to your grandfather,” he ordered, seeing Shaggy Hump emerge from his lodge.
Looks Away came out behind Shaggy Hump, smiling at Sandhill.
“Aho, Mother,” Horseback said, using the term of respect even though Looks Away was not his blood mother.
“Aho, my son.” She took Sandhill from her husband and tickled the boy under the chin. Looks Away seemed happy camping here, this close to the Yuta country of her birth. Even now it was known only to Horseback and Looks Away that she was the sister of Bad Camper, and the real reason for the truce between the two nations. Not even Bad Camper knew his sister had become the wife of Shaggy Hump, or that she had convinced Horseback to release him from torture five winters ago.
“My son,” Shaggy Hump said, “Are your words straight for the council?”
“Straighter than straight.”
“Good. You will be called to speak. Let the spirits use your tongue. Your words will be like shadow-talk.”
River Woman’s lodge rose next to the lodge of Shaggy Hump, and as they passed her lodge, her voice came from inside, saying, “My son!” Then she leapt through the entry hole of the lodge, dashing the wolf-skin cover aside. She stepped in front of Horseback and said, “My son, you must watch for signs of the sacred deer.”
“Yes, Mother. I will watch. As the sun is my witness.”
His mother’s hair was streaked with gray now, and she had begun to walk hunched over. Shaggy Hump had not lain with her in his lodge for many winters, for since her wound and her vision, River Woman did nothing but pray. Some of the Burnt Meat People claimed she practiced sorcery, but none brought this charge to the council out of fear and respect for Shaggy Hump, who was still a great warrior.
“I know your dreams,” River Woman said. “I see your vision. I walk behind you.”
“Good, my mother. Tsah.”
As Horseback and his father walked on toward the lodge that had been raised for the council, they passed the Northern Raider girl called Dipper, whom Whip had captured five winters ago. Upon her cheek she wore a fresh bruise that Whip had given her. She was called Dipper after the bird of the mountains who walked underwater, for she spent much time in streams, cooling her bruises and washing away blood from her face.
Since taking this girl from the Northern Raiders, Whip had made her good with his seed. She had given him a daughter, but he would not stop beating her, as if she were still a slave. Horseback no longer spoke much to Whip, for Whip had stayed with the Burnt Meat People, while Horseback had joined the Corn People in order to care for Teal’s mother. He did not see Whip often, but he did not like the way Whip beat his woman for no reason at all.
Dipper saw Horseback looking at her and turned her face in shame, concentrating on the new moccasins she was sewing for her husband. Horseback wondered if things would be different for her in the new nation of his vision.
As he continued toward the council site, he and Shaggy Hump were joined by Echo-of-the-Wolf, who rode his horse right through camp, for he had joined the order of the Foolish Ones, and did crazy things no other True Human would think of doing. He even rode upwind of cooking fires, let his shadow fall on cooking meat, and violated many other lesser taboos. No longer would Echo carry his weapons into battle, for the Foolish Ones carried o
nly a quirt and a buffalo-scrotum rattle with which they struck their enemies. Now he was riding his special Foolish pony, and many young boys trotted along behind him to see what peculiar thing he might do.
“Kiyu!” he shouted. “When will you join the order of the Foolish Ones with me? Are you not foolish enough yet?”
“When the nation of my vision moves south, my friend. I have told you.”
“Hurry. I do not wish to be foolish forever.”
It was best with Foolish Ones to work in twos. The only way out of the order came with death, or with the death of one’s partner in foolishness. Echo had only recently declared himself a Foolish One and had rejected all other partners, saying only Horseback was foolish enough to ride with him. It was an honor for Horseback. Few warriors in the three bands camped together had won as many battle strokes and scalps as Echo.
As they strolled on toward the council lodge, Echo darted forward on his Foolish horse, looking for something crazy to do. He moved a lodge pole to close the smoke flaps on someone’s lodge, then rode away. He left behind a cluster of boys laughing at an old man who had to come out of his lodge naked to escape the smoke.
“It is strange how well Echo performs his mischief,” Shaggy Hump said. “He never did anything crazy before he became a Foolish One.”
“It is good. Now all those young boys will want to join the order so that they can get away with nonsense like that Boys like to have fun.”
The women had raised a special lodge for the council, using the longest poles available to make the lodge larger than any other in camp. It was so large that they covered it only part of the way up with robes and hides gathered from many families. After the council, it would be taken apart and its pieces returned to those who owned them.
Horseback’s lodge was near the council lodge, so he went there to make himself ready. For a long time, he judged his reflection in the looking glass Raccoon-Eyes had given him five winters before in the Sacred South. It was the only mirror in camp, and perhaps the only one in the whole Noomah nation. Horseback was very proud of it.
Much time passed before all the men had gathered, so those who came first stood talking about many things, clustering in two groups: horse-warriors and foot-warriors. The men who were the most vain took a long time to appear, for they had to make their braids fall just right, and preen the feathers they wore in their hair like meticulous cranes. Whip was the most vain of all. It was said that he would pick up the hair cut off by mourning women and weave this into his own braids, to make his hair look longer.
Finally, the elders entered the lodge singing the council song. They circled like the sun just around the inside of the hide walls. They were followed by the active warriors with the most experience, causing the circle of councilors to spiral toward the center of the lodge. The young warriors entered last, all the while singing and shuffling the council dance, until all the men were inside the lodge, elders at the center, youths around the edges of the circle.
The pipe was lighted and passed. All the men smoked, while outside, women kept their ears turned toward the lodge, hoping to hear some of the talk of the men when it began.
An elder peace chief of the Wild Sage People spoke first. His name was Blue Butte, and he had counted his first battle stroke many winters before First Horse appeared to the Burnt Meat People. Blue Butte spoke of the old ways of the True Humans, the pole-drags fitted for dogs, the smaller camps where the people stayed longer, moving only when they needed to find more food or escape from enemies.
“Now we move because the ponies of the young horsebacks need more grass,” Blue Butte said. “There is more fighting with the nations to the north, and the young warriors who survive take too many captive women of bad blood into their lodges. The horses make our young men powerful, but it happens too quickly. Power and danger take the same path, and sometimes one must move aside for the other. All the young men want to do now is raid and fight and move and get more ponies. It is not good to become so rich with ponies. The ponies burden more than they serve. I need only one pony to pull my lodge. That is enough. One pony does not eat much grass. I am too old to ride ten sleeps for a fight. I will defend my village with my moccasins on the ground, so I can feel the heart of Mother Earth. The spirits tell me to do this in my visions. If we began eating all the horses around this camp, we would have enough meat to last until next winter! I have spoken.”
The other elders spoke in turn, as the sun sank behind the Medicine Bow mountains. Each agreed with Blue Butte. Too many horses. Too much moving. Too much fighting for no reason. Too many captive women making wives for young Noomah men.
“It is good to have a few ponies,” said old Turtle Rattler, elder councilor of the Corn People, “but they should be used like big dogs, to move good lodges, not to ride off on a raid for the sole purpose of stealing more ponies.”
In time, it was Shaggy Hump’s turn to speak, and he rose, looking around at all the councilors. “It was the way of the spirits that I should discover First Horse on the day of my son’s birth. My son knows the heart of the horse, for the spirit of First Horse leapt into his body as he was born. He knows the reason for the horse. He knows the mystic powers of great spirit-ponies. We will hear him talk straight before the moon passes over the mountains. I have spoken.”
The brevity of Shaggy Hump’s oration so stunned the council that for a long moment—a moment that lasted longer than the speech itself—no one moved. Finally, the next warrior in turn rose. It was Bear Heart. He stood silently for a while, thinking about what he had planned to say. The other councilors waited patiently as he thought. A great horned owl began to hoot nearby, and it hooted a hundred times before Bear Heart decided what he would say.
“My friend, Shaggy Hump, is wise. I will let Horseback speak.”
Echo rose next, though it was not his turn, and said, “I will not have Horseback speak for me!” But because he was wearing the paint of a Foolish One, the other councilors understood that he meant just the opposite.
One by one, the younger warriors swallowed the long talks they had rehearsed. The ones who held to the old ways of their grandfathers said the elders had already spoken for them. The young horsebacks said Kiyu would do their talking.
When finally he rose, Horseback’s heart was good. From where he now stood, he could see two trails. The first trail would change the hearts of the elders and cause them to move the camp, making the people of the Icy-Water camp-together the first people of the Horse Nation. Should he fail in changing the hearts of the elders, the second path would lead him south with his new followers. They would break away from the camp-together and go to conquer new hunting grounds.
Horseback did not know which of these paths would be better for the Horse Nation of his Great Vision, but he trusted that his spirit-guide, Sound-the-Sun-Makes, knew well.
“I have listened to my elders,” he began, “and I grow wiser by their words. My elders have seen things I have not, and done things I never will.
“Yet, I have seen things my elders have not seen, and done things they will not do. I have been far to the south, across the River of Arrowheads, where no Noomah warrior ever went before. I have seen hairy-faced white warriors called Metal Men. I have seen them make spirits sing in iron. I have seen them pull pole-drags upon sacred hoops that roll on the ground. I have seen their Fire Sticks and their strange beasts and the shiny yellow metal they worship. This is not all I have seen.
“In the south, I have seen rich grasslands with buffalo that number like pine needles in a great forest that takes one hundred sleeps to cross. Antelope run like flocks of ducks flying in the autumn sky. A blind man could hunt the elk and the lesser bear in the river timber, for he must only listen to hear them pass. There is more meat than my elders have ever seen and plenty of fruit and other good things for our women to gather.
“Also, I have seen a great vision. When my medicine went bad and the dark shadow of my protector fell on me, the Metal Men captured me to tor
ture to death. My father and my friends rescued me from this shame. You have seen the torture scars on my back. My wife has begun to tattoo these scars so no one will forget about the danger of the Metal Men. When I was sick from my torture, the spirits gave me a Great Vision. In this vision, I saw a new Horse Nation moving south from the land of the True Humans. The nation will move upon the backs of ponies. It was a nation in the mist of tomorrow, yet I know that it will come out into the sun.”
Horseback stood long enough to let his breath catch up to his words, thinking about what he planned to say next.
“My elders speak of the old times. I remember some of these old times. I remember hiding from the Northern Raiders. Now, our warriors attack the Northern Raiders and take scalps, and slaves, and ponies. We must continue to take the ponies of our enemies, for the ponies make us strong in battle, and will make our enemies strong if we let them keep the ponies.
“Blue Butte has spoken of his bravery in battle. He will stand with his moccasins on the ground to feel the power of Mother Earth. That is good. But I feel the power of my pony between my legs, and my pony feels the power of Mother Earth through four legs. The way of the horsebacks is also good.
“When I was a boy, I remember starving through the Time When Babies Cry for Food. We have not known times that bad since our ponies began to number as many as our lodges, for now we can search more country, find more food, and move more quickly to make meat. The pony is better than the dog. The dog eats meat. The pony makes meat. Our ponies have made us richer, but still our land is poor. It is a good and sacred land, washed in the blood of our grandfathers, but it is a poor land. The land to the south is rich. There, we will not have to move our camp so much to find grass for our ponies, for the grass grows like hair on a dog. And we will have no need to move often. There is food everywhere.”
