by Mike Blakely
“Straighter than straight!” Shaggy Hump added.
Sandhill rode to the cactus and back, making the pony trot in a near perfect line. Returning to his father, he tried to hang onto the side of his mount like a warrior using his pony for a shield, but his leg slipped over the back of the pony and he landed flat on his back in the dirt. Horseback and Shaggy Hump laughed at him as he rose and gasped for breath.
“Why did you fall off?” Horseback asked.
“I was trying to use my pony for a shield, like the warriors,” Sandhill said.
“It is easier after your pony sweats, then his coat sticks to your leggings better. You must ride hard first. Now, get back on and make that pony sweat. You will learn.”
Sandhill turned and looked at the pony, standing several steps away. He clenched his fists and gathered himself for the challenge. He backed up two steps, then hurled himself at the gelding, leaping to grab the rawhide rope higher than the time before. Kicking and clawing, he groped for a fistful of mane, found it, pulled himself higher, got an elbow over the withers. Horseback and Shaggy Hump almost doubled over in their valiant efforts to restrain their laughter. After three attempts, the boy threw a leg over the back of the pony and lay there, catching his breath.
“Now you mount like an elder sister, but that is better than a younger sister. You will learn. Ride, my son!”
Sandhill spent most of the day on his pony as Horseback shouted encouragement and advice. When the pony was sweating, the boy indeed rode like a warrior for a short distance, clutching the mane with one hand, and keeping one leg fast across the back of the gelding, before falling off again, this time onto a yucca plant that pierced his skin in three places that he fancied as arrow wounds.
It was near sundown when Horseback saw dust over the southern riverbank and ran for his weapons. The dust turned out to be that of a single rider who came trotting into camp all bruised and swollen. It was Whip’s woman, Dipper.
“He was going to kill me,” she said. “The people in that camp believe I am a witch. They were going to let him beat me to death. I got away in the night after he went to look for Na-vohnuh camps.”
Horseback took her gently by the arm. “Go with Teal. You will live in my lodge now. But remember that Teal carries my shield.”
Dipper pursed her swollen lips together in relief that almost turned to tears. “Yes, Teal carries your shield. I will obey your sits-beside wife.”
Teal came to take Dipper away with her, an odd strained look of pride and jealousy on her face.
“Wait,” Horseback commanded. He knew it would be easier to go through this just once. He had been thinking of this since the death of his fellow Foolish One, Echo-of-the-Wolf. Echo’s wife, Sunshade, had been mourning, surviving by virtue of the generosity of the camp since Echo’s death. No blood brother survived Echo. It was up to Horseback, his Foolish Brother, to see that Sunshade was cared for. He might have given her more time to mourn before taking her as a wife, but he did not wish to rouse Teal’s jealousy more than once.
“Sunshade,” he said, seeing her in the gathering of people who had come to witness the arrival of Dipper, “you will go with Teal also. You will serve her. When you have mourned the loss of your dead husband for one great circle of seasons, then I will lie with you.” He spoke loudly now, so the people of his camp would hear. “Now I have three wives. I am richer than rich, yet I must not lie with any woman until my power is good. I await only my war pony, Medicine-Coat, to bring back my puha. Then I will hunt buffalo and my wives will make many robes. Each wife will have her own lodge.”
He paused to look over the remnants of his camp. “We must prepare our weapons. When my war pony comes, I will ride south to avenge my ancestors. For those who follow me, there will be a great war with the Na-vohnuh. The victor in this war will win all this country of the big buffalo herds. I am ready to die here. The spirits have shown me a nation in the mist. I have spoken.”
He glanced at Teal, who was glaring angrily at him. He understood. She had served him well, and now he was taking two new wives at once. He would keep a safe distance from her for a few days, and she would see that he was right. There was no one else to take care of these two women.
Choosing not to wallow in Teal’s anger, he looked out beyond the edge of camp, and saw Sandhill, still riding his pony. This made Horseback smile.
* * *
Whip did not appear for two more suns. When he arrived, Horseback met him beyond the lodges of the camp, no weapons in his hand. Whip carried his lance, his shield, and his bow and arrows.
“I have been waiting for you, my brother,” Horseback said. He knew Whip would understand his use of the term brother, for brothers shared wives, and he had taken Whip’s.
“You live,” Whip said. “I remember you lying wounded, like a weak woman.”
“I am strong now.”
“You do not ride.”
“I await a pony from the Shadow Land.”
Whip scoffed. “I come for my slave.”
“I have taken her into my lodge. How many ponies do you want for her?”
“I want to cut off her nose for coupling with another warrior.”
“She has coupled with no one, and she will not until you have been paid for her.”
“If I wish, I will take her back to my camp and beat her. My people want to burn her.”
“If they burn her, she will be gone, and you will be no richer. If you sell her, she will still be gone, but you will have more ponies.”
Whip glared, yet obviously saw the logic in Horseback’s words. Perhaps the long ride from his camp had taken some of his anger, Horseback thought.
“Ten ponies,” Whip said.
“I am rich in wives, but poor in ponies. I have only six to offer.”
“Six ponies and five robes.”
“Six ponies, two robes, and two lodge poles.”
“Tsah. It is good. A pony for each winter that witch tried to destroy me. You will regret taking her into your lodge, my brother. She is bad.”
“I will make her good. Go get your ponies from the herd. You know which ones are mine. I will tell my wives to pack two good robes on the lodge poles.” He turned back to his camp.
“Now I am more horsed than Horseback,” Whip said, the boast obvious in his voice.
Horseback stopped and turned back to his friend of boyhood days. “I will have horses again. My puha is coming back. Things change, my brother. Things always change.”
Whip’s arrogant countenance slowly gave way to a look of deep sadness. “Hah. It is true.”
Horseback turned away from Whip for the last time. Change was something upon which they could agree. Never would they speak again.
58
Danger lurked everywhere, like lightning poised to strike from the clouds. Around each bend. Over every rise. Under all the cutaway banks along the streams where Noomah would drink. Lions waited on limbs in the trees. Wolves darted from brush and timber. Great humpbacked bears lumbered across hillsides, themselves moving hillsides of muscle and stinking fur.
For days, Noomah wandered. He found grass. Sweet grass. Tender shoots. He ate, and ate, and ate. He grew strong and quick again. He felt good, for the scents and sounds of the horrible two-leggeds were far behind him.
He stayed away from timber and brush and held to the sage and grass country where he could see far and run fast. The scent of stinking meat-eaters drifted to him often, and he learned to hold his head high and look into the wind for the hunters. Often, an indeterminable sound or motion provided all the encouragement Noomah needed to bolt and run.
It was well, for sometimes meat-eaters would chase him when he bolted. Wolves that came low to the ground, quick as swooping birds. Lions that bounded in great leaps, down from trees or over boulders. Once, he came to drink and blundered into a great she-bear with two cubs. She rose from the willows and came so suddenly and swiftly at Noomah that he felt her terrible claws rake hair from his rump as he turned t
o flee. He ran so far that his feet ached and his lungs burned, but he learned to approach his drinking places with the wind in his nostrils.
He moved down the streams that had led him out of the mountains. He liked the land below. Here, he could see far across grass and sage. One day he watched some strange dark thing in the distance. He watched a long time. It moved like a huge cloud shadow across a distant hillside. Noomah knew this thing was a herd. The voices told him that a herd meant protection from killers and meat-eaters.
As he wandered toward the herd, Noomah found a group of bull elk, their antlers waving above their heads like falling trees. They looked at him a long time, then turned to trot away. He followed. After many days, he came closer to the elk. Closer and closer, until they knew his scent. Finally, he moved among them. Now their eyes and ears and noses were his. He learned their call. They whistled to warn him. Among them, Noomah could lower his head and fill his mouth with fresh grass. The elk would make feints at him with their antlers, but this only made him dodge playfully and kick his hind hooves. The elk did not know how to fight.
The buffalo knew. Noomah came among the buffalo with his friends, the elk. The buffalo numbered many and made the air smell strange with dust and the scent of chewed grass. The buffalo ate much grass, and this made Noomah lay his ears back against his neck in anger. The bulls were large and quick and possessed of dangerous horns. Noomah had to dodge their heads when they came at him, but he was quicker still, and faster. Noomah liked to wander among the elk, but he did not like the buffalo. He would run at them sometimes, flailing his hooves and popping his teeth, and the cows would run and Noomah would chase them with his ears laid back and his head low. They wanted his grass. This made him angry.
One day a scent made his heart pound and his loins flare with desire. He darted across the plains until he found the scent again, and he drew much wind into his lungs, making the scent stronger. He saw the mare upon a distant hill, and charged after her. She ran. He chased her. He had seen no horses since his escape from the two-leggeds, and the sight and smell of a mare made him crave her pleasures.
The mare ran to a herd of horses, and Noomah plunged among them with violent joy and reckless cravings, until they scattered—and then he saw the two-legged. Noomah flinched as if bitten by something. He tore sod from the ground in his wild flight. He kept his distance from the two-legged, yet could not bring himself to leave the herd of mares.
For a long time, he studied the two-legged who wandered with the herd. Circling downwind, he caught the scent of the two-legged. It smelled only vaguely of meat-eater stench. This two-legged was like none Noomah had known. It moved silently, lacking the shaking-singing-rattling-squeaking sounds of the two-leggeds he had known before. The horses tolerated the two-legged, as the elk had tolerated Noomah himself. The two-legged moved among the horses even at night.
The horses remained near a place where many two-leggeds lived, but Noomah would only watch this place from a distance, for it was strange. There was much commotion at this place, and strange smells, so Noomah preferred to stay away. For days, he moved downwind of the herd, gradually easing closer, until the scent of one of the mares became so strong that Noomah could no longer stay away. He charged into the herd, identifying the mare that crazed him. He drove her away from the others, and the two-legged made no attempt to stop him. Noomah mounted the mare and felt the ecstasy he craved.
Now he wandered along the edge of the herd, watching the two-legged closely. The two-legged had hair like Noomah’s mane. Hair-Like-a-Mane moved among the horses, often touching some of them. One day Noomah came very near this two-legged and heard a strange noise. It sounded as if it came from the throat of the two-legged, and Noomah tossed his head in curiosity, but Hair-Like-a-Mane would not make the sound again.
As Noomah followed, the herd led him far out into the grass where only one watering place existed within a half-day’s trot. It lay in the bend of a creek, surrounded by trees. When Noomah became thirsty, he approached this place cautiously with the wind in his nostrils. The other horses were drinking there, but Noomah had learned to fear watering holes as places where meat eaters lurked. Finally satisfying himself that no danger existed at the water hole, he eased his muzzle to the water to drink. He was very thirsty, and his mouth tasted like grass. Noomah drank and drank until his belly felt heavy with water.
Then something strange happened. The two-legged, Hair-Like-a-Mane, appeared riding a horse that rose from the earth. The horse and rider came across the wind, so Noomah had not smelled them. They ran at Noomah, and he tried to flee, but his belly felt as if it would burst. The strange snakelike thing flew at him from the horse and rider and tightened around his neck, terrifying him. He fought against the noose, but Hair-Like-a-Mane slid from his pony and kept Noomah from running. He did not choke Noomah, as the other two-leggeds had done, but he made Noomah stay, and Noomah did not like it.
Noomah lunged against the rope until the sun passed over the treetops of the water hole. All the while, Hair-Like-a-Mane made strange motions. In time, Noomah learned that none of the motions would hurt him. The rope around his neck, though it tightened, never choked him. The two-legged came gradually closer, the rope getting shorter. The two-legged reached, and Noomah shied. But the two-legged reached, and reached, and reached, and finally Noomah let himself be touched.
In the days that followed, Hair-Like-a-Mane touched Noomah all over, and the touching never hurt. Noomah had grass and water. Hair-Like-a-Mane touched him even over his eyes and flanks and ears and testicles. Noomah would strike sometimes, but Hair-Like-a-Mane was wise, and never got kicked or bitten. When he struck, Noomah felt a sharp pain from the rope that now ran around his nose and behind his ears. He learned that the hands of Hair-Like-a-Mane did not hurt him, so he ceased to strike.
In time, Noomah let the two-legged come face-to-face with him. He smelled the breath of this two-legged, and felt Hair-Like-a-Mane take in his own breath. He heard the sound again—the sound that came from the throat of this two-legged. This time, he heard it quite clearly. It said, “Noo-oo-oo-ma-mah.”
Something happened. Noomah did not know how to understand it, and did not try. He had become a part of Hair-Like-a-Mane, and Hair-Like-a-Mane had become a part of him.
The two-legged tied a rope to Noomah’s foot and taught him not to run away. When he ran away from this wise two-legged, he would trip, so Noomah let Hair-Like-a-Mane approach him whenever he liked. Always, the hands touched him all over and scratched him in places he could not reach without a stick or rock to rub against.
One day, Hair-Like-a-Mane slipped something around Noomah’s jaw. It did not hurt, and Noomah did not fight it, but while he was tasting the strange thing, Hair-Like-a-Mane swung silently onto his back. Noomah was startled, and he leapt forward, but the thing tightened around his jaw. Frightened, he tossed his head and kicked, but the two-legged stayed on his back. When he lowered his head to pitch, the thing would hurt his jaw, so Noomah learned not to pitch. He trotted around with Hair-Like-a-Mane on his back.
Now, every day, Hair-Like-a-Mane would come to untie him and ride him. They went faster and faster, and Noomah would sweat, and the sweat would make him cool. He learned to keep his head high, for the thing hurt his jaw when he lowered his head to pitch. Hair-Like-a-Mane would pull his head around to make him turn, and Noomah wanted to please his two-legged in this way, for they had become part of each other. He learned to turn when he felt reins press against his neck or Hair-Like-a-Mane’s soft heels press against his ribs. He liked to see his two-legged coming, for he liked to run.
Finally, Hair-Like-a-Mane rode Noomah to a rise on the open plains. They trotted, then loped across the grass. Noomah could see a long way, which pleased him after so many days in the creek bed near the water hole. He heard the good noise of the two-legged on his back, felt the soft heels nudge his ribs. Noomah began to run. He had not run this fast in a long time. Hair-Like-a-Mane stayed with him like a part of him. Noomah ran fa
ster. It seemed he had never run this fast.
Then, he heard something strange. It seized his heart like the jaws of a meat-eater and shot power through his massive muscles. A lion’s scream and a wolf’s howl and a hawk’s cry had come together and burst from the throat of Hair-Like-a-Mane. Realizing this, Noomah’s fear turned to sudden joy, and he felt the wind pull at his tail as his heart connected with his rider’s. Never had he run this fast. The joyful sound of his two-legged made him lengthen his stride and pound the earth with his hooves. He ran faster than any horse had ever run.
Noomah loved to run.
59
January, 1712
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Governor Del Bosque opened the door to his sala and gaped in disbelief. “Gracias a Dios!” he said. “Juan, you look half-dead!” He stepped aside and gestured indoors.
Jean smiled as he entered with his servant. He pointed to a corner in the governor’s cozy sala. “Throw the burden down there, Paniagua, and that will be all for the night.”
The Tiwa servant lugged the heavy leather pack saddle pannier to the corner indicated by his employer and dropped it. Without a word, he left the sala and entered the night.
The governor’s mouth was still open, but now he scrambled for a bottle of wine. Pouring a glass, he looked through the door Paniagua had left open, and shouted across the plaza of the Casas Reales toward the kitchen. “We have a guest! Bring something to eat!” He kicked the door shut to close out the evening chill and handed the glass to Jean.
“Thank you,” Jean said, sitting near the fire to warm himself. He added another billet of split pine to the flames without seeking permission to do so.
“You look half-starved, my friend. Your face is drawn up like a corpse.”
“It was a difficult journey.”
Del Bosque glanced at the leather pannier. “That Indio servant—Paniagua. Do you trust him?”
