by Sadie Conall
Ryder dipped his paddle to turn his canoe. “Let’s head back. The women will be awake by now and wondering where we’ve gone.”
Yet as the men paddled back in silence looking out into that isolated, wild country all around them, each felt a very real fear, but neither spoke of it. For despite what Madeleine said about all their skills in hunting and gathering, a bitterly cold winter loomed and they would need every skill they owned to survive it.
Two
I woke when Ryder left the teepee. And by the time I rose and dressed and went outside, I saw him and Te’tukhe heading downriver in the canoes.
I couldn’t believe their luck in finding them, for it gave us another opportunity to hunt before the river filled with ice. For even the girls could make good use of them, taking Harry and Kimana out to fish.
Deinde'-paggwe followed me outside, leaving Poongatse asleep with Harry and Kimana, for it was still so early. I thought Wannge’e still abed in her own furs, but I had no intention of waking her or entering her teepee without being invited. And besides, the girl needed to rest. We had all seen her exhaustion in the last few weeks when she had been forced to walk alongside us, too heavy with pregnancy to ride. Because of it she had lost weight, but there was nothing to be done about it. We had a few precious weeks ahead of us to get her strong before the birth and I intended to do everything I could to make it as easy for her as possible.
Deinde'-paggwe took our waterskins and went down to the river to fill them, while I ran up towards the trees. I wanted to set some snares, as well as get more fuel for our fires. But before I entered the woods, I couldn’t help but stop and look back. This very place where I was standing was the same bank where I had sat so many times over the years enjoying a feast, watching the village celebrate the hunt, or a birth or to welcome visitors. Indeed, just twenty feet or so away from me was the very place I had sat with Ryder and tried to explain to him my relationship with Ese-ggwe’na’a. Yet Ryder had been unable to understand. And even after all these years, I could still hear his words, words that had left me reeling with misery.
if you are friends, then you can love me. If you need protection, then you have me
I smiled at the memory of it. How strange to be here now, after all that had happened and yet remember that. Thinking on it, I was startled by the muted sound of a man laughing and I looked up and saw Ryder and Te’tukhe coming around a bend way in the distance, padding back towards our camp. Their laughter again echoed back to me, sounding strange in that early morning stillness and as I watched them, I could hardly bear to take my eyes off Ryder. It was only when Deinde'-paggwe impatiently called out for me to hurry, that I turned and ran under the trees, my bow and sheath of arrows over my shoulder and some rawhide rope ready to set snares.
I also carried several leather bags with me and as I moved I began to gather herbs, not only to use in our cooking but for healing, if one of us took ill. I also kept an eye out for feverfew and crampbark, for these herbs would aid Wannge’e’s pain when her time came.
I had forgotten how peaceful it was up here in the mountains, away from everyone else. Just a chorus of birdsong along with the slightest whisper of wind high up in the trees all around me. I paused when I reached a hill high above our camp and wished suddenly I had brought my horse, but it was easier to hunt for herbs on foot. I stood there to catch my breath, looking out across the valley, seeing Ryder and Te’tukhe pull the canoes up onto the bank far below and I felt a moment of gratitude that Te’tukhe was here with us, not only for Ryder’s sake, but because of Te’tukhe’s strength. For he was not only strong physically, but mentally and emotionally, a hard man just as Ryder was and I couldn’t ask for a better companion for us all while we hunkered down here until spring.
I turned as an eagle came sweeping down the valley, his cry echoing out across the Plain even as his massive wing span brought him just above the water line of the Snake River before he swept up and away, startled to find the two men on the river bank watching him. And again, that high pitched cry as the huge bird flapped his wings and swept away to the north.
The Ugákhpa brothers stood and watched the bird’s flight even as I took pleasure in watching them, admiring how alike they were, as they stood together, hands on their hips. And then I heard them behind me. The slightest thud and vibration of the earth, the change in the air and energy around me followed by their smell and I turned, reaching for an arrow as a large family of wild hares raced away behind me.
Within a heartbeat I had killed one, even as I reached for another arrow and killed another, before they disappeared within the woods. And as if alerted to death, birds suddenly flew from their nests above me, scattering among the trees. But by then I knew it wasn’t the eagle’s shrill cry which had scared off the hares. Something else had done that.
I dropped to my knees, pulling my butcher knife from the sheath on my moccasin as I spun around, desperate to see what creature approached. But I was met with silence.
But something was coming. I could feel it. I moved, picking up my kill and sprinting to take cover behind a tree, laying the knife at my feet as I put another arrow to my bow, feeling the energy of the creature even before I became aware of its scent.
I knew it was a wolf even before the low growl came from the trees on my left and as I turned, my heart racing, a massive white beast appeared not fifteen feet away from me.
I lowered my weapons in awe of his beauty, speechless with longing, for this was my esa. I would have known him anywhere, although it would have been foolish of me to presume he would still remember me after five years.
He looked as wild as the woods in which he lived, in which we both stood. He lifted his head and sniffed, getting the scent of me, the pant of his breath mirroring my own.
The last time I had seen esa he had been standing on a high cliff above the gorge, bidding me farewell as Ryder and I left the Snake River Plain bound for St Louis and then London. And now I stood before him once more, a creature I had loved with all my heart.
Although, we were wary of each other. I didn’t dare put down my bow and arrow. But as the wolf stepped towards me, one slow step at a time, I moved out from behind the tree and dropped into a low crouch, clicking my fingers to call him to me as I had done so many times before when we lived together in these mountains.
“Come deide’dee-daga’,” I said softly. “It’s been a long time since last we met my love, but oh, I remember you well.”
He didn’t come. Instead he stood utterly still, then he whimpered once, turned and was gone.
I moved to sit on the forest floor, not aware until then that I was trembling. But esa was alive. After all these years, my wolf still lived.
*
I told everyone I had seen esa, not only to protect themselves, but also to protect my wolf. I constantly looked out for him, but we were so busy hunting and gathering from dawn to dusk, pushing ourselves to be ready for when the first snows fell that I was rarely alone. And no-one saw esa, he was a ghost to everyone but me.
But I knew he was no phantom for I’d heard him, I had smelt his scent, I had seen him breathe, so if he were near, if he watched us, he kept himself well hidden. Although late at night when I heard a wolf howl in the woods behind our camp, I knew it was esa.
By the end of our third week on the Snake River Plain, we had gathered huge stores of wood and kindling along with piñon nuts, root vegetables, herbs and smoked meat.
Nothing was wasted. Everything had a purpose. We began to plan what clothes we would make from the furs and hides we began to cure. We used bones for tools, sinew for sewing.
And as the teepees began to fill with supplies, we all began to feel more secure in getting through the winter, when temperatures would drop below freezing, when great chunks of ice started floated down the river and snow drifts so deep that no man, not even Ryder, could get through them.
Most days I joined the men on horseback to hunt and as each day passed, they had to build more iron
wood frames on which to hold all the venison we were smoking over hickory fires. Wannge’e’ volunteered to stand guard over the meat while we went off into the woods, with three muskets loaded and ready to fire by her side, for we had seen several black bears sniffing around our camp in the few weeks we had been there. And Ryder and Te’tukhe had seen a big female grizzly high up in the south ranges. With no men to hunt them for their claws and fur, the bears had thrived here over the past few years and our only consolation was that soon they would hibernate.
During rare afternoons when the men weren’t out hunting or fishing or building dogwood and ironwood frames or butchering animals we had caught, Ryder and Te’tukhe would ride up to the gorge to look for flint to make arrowheads for our arrows. Most times they would take Harry with them and we often heard their laughter drift back to us.
Kimana settled well into our new life, but Harry took longer. He woke each morning eager to move on, ready to get the horses moving. But once he understood we would be staying here for a while, until the spring at least, he slowly began to settle in. It helped that he and Kimana liked each other, despite their age difference of some two years, but Harry was gentle with the little girl and because of it, she began to trust him as she trusted her mother and slowly she became more confident. Although we had to watch her and Harry, for they were inclined to run up into the woods when no-one was looking, or race down to the river without a care for its danger.
One cold morning after Ryder and Te’tukhe rode off to hunt, hoping to set some traps around the beaver dam, I headed for the woods to check some snares we had set up to catch small game, leaving the girls and the children behind, mainly to keep an eye on Wannge’e’, for her time was getting near.
I was not even three miles from our camp when the sudden silence made me stop. And then I felt that rush of energy from somewhere behind me and knew a creature stalked me. I moved behind a great pine, dropping to my knees, waiting for their scent. When it came, I peered out from behind the tree and saw him standing there. My wolf.
I remained kneeling. I didn’t call him. But I took the time to look at him and saw clearly now that he had aged. He had been four years old when I left him in the spring of 1800, in the prime of his life. And contrary to my first meeting with him which was brief and over within minutes, I now saw the scars he carried, gained from fights with other wolves.
His fur was not so white. One leg bore an old scar where he had been bitten and one of his ears was slightly ragged, as though it had healed badly after a tear. And his eyes, although still beautiful, now held a look of age. Yet, he was still magnificent.
He lifted his front right paw as though wanting to come to me, but unsure. For I too had changed since he saw me last. I had been a young woman not yet twenty-five, when I left him for Ryder. Now I was a grown woman of almost thirty, a wife and mother and like him, I also bore scars from past battles.
He stamped his front right paw again so I dropped to my knees and held out my hand, clicking my fingers and my tongue, that same click click sound I had always used with him.
“Esa? Come deaipede’tuine,” I called softly yet the wolf remained utterly still, his legs apart, his head up, watching me.
Then suddenly he stood erect, lifting his head to sniff the air even as his ears and nose twitched as though something dangerous was close. When he moved his great head from side to side as if in distress, I called to him again and he looked back at me and whimpered before he suddenly turned, his great body rigid as he looked north. Then he whimpered again, before turning and running off into the trees, leaving me alone.
I pushed myself to my feet, trying to hear what he had heard, trying to smell what he had smelt, for something had scared him off. And then I felt that same urgency which esa had felt, a vibration in the earth, a distant sound that promised chaos and I found myself stumbling forward and then pushing myself into a run even as a high-pitched scream came from our camp.
I sprinted through the trees, breathless, my lungs bursting as I arrived at the woods above our camp, terrified when I saw Deinde'-paggwe running towards me.
“Someone’s coming,” she yelled before turning and pointing north. “I was coming to find you, for Mi'wasa and Te’tukhe aren’t back,” she cried as we ran down the bank towards the teepees.
“Get the children back into the woods with Poongatse, I’ll bring Wannge’e and the dogs,” I yelled and the girl took off at a sprint, yelling at Harry and Kimana and Poongatse to come back, for they stood down by the river with the dogs, looking out across the Plain to where a high cloud of dust was steadily rising.
I crawled inside our teepee and went through Ryder’s belongings until I found his spyglass. As I went to leave the teepee, I glanced across at all our belongings, carried over such a great distance, almost all of them gifts for Paddake’e and Ese-ggwe’na’a and cursed softly at our carelessness, for we hadn’t bothered to hide them and now they lay there, waiting to be taken by whoever rode towards us.
I grabbed four muskets and several bags of shot and powder before pushing them outside, then going back in to get the spyglass.
Wannge’e had come out of her teepee where she had been lying down, her hand on her swollen belly. I gave her two of the muskets and another to Poongatse. Deinde'-paggwe looked at the weapons in horror and I cursed again, for we should have given her lessons in how to use one. But it was too late now. But Wannge’e would do her best. I trusted her and Poongatse to fight alongside me, against whoever was coming.
I took Harry by the hand and we raced up the bank towards the woods, the dogs racing alongside us, as Deinde'-paggwe picked up Kimana and followed me. Poongatse took Wannge’e gently by her arm and helped her up the bank and as they hurried to take shelter within the trees, I ran to the highest point on the bank and took the spyglass from its case then twisted the canisters to look north.
Riders heading our way, but too many to count. The rise of dust and debris from their hooves were filling the early morning air and as I watched, I felt a grip of fear in my belly, even as I twisted the canisters to see better.
And then I saw the horses. Scores of them, if not hundreds, and obviously part of a herd. I saw men herding them, pushing them on, straight towards us.
“Who is it? Are we under attack?” Poongatse cried, coming back to stand beside me.
I handed her the spyglass.
“Tell me what you see,” I asked with some urgency, shielding my eyes, trying to see way in the distance. Poongatse frowned, staring through the lens.
“Horses, hundreds of them. Coming towards our camp. Who are they Esa-mogo'ne’?” she asked, as I saw the fear on her lovely face. Then she glanced back towards the trees. “Let me get Wannge’e. She has better eyesight than me,” and she ran off.
While I waited for the girls to come back, I turned the spyglass back on the riders. But they were too far away to be sure.
And then Wannge’e was waddling towards me as all heavily pregnant women do, with Deinde'-paggwe beside her. I gave Wannge’e the spyglass.
“Look through there, take your time. Tell me what you see.”
By now we could hear the distant thunder of hooves on hard ground, the whinny and screams of countless horses and the faint yells and shouts of men. A lot of men.
Wannge’e said nothing for a long moment, moving the spyglass across the Plain, seeking, looking, moving it back again until at long last she turned to me, looking both luminous and vulnerable as she stood there with her swollen belly, her face a mixture of fear and joy.
“I can’t be sure Esa-mogo'ne’. But I think it’s the Bannock come home.”
Three
Ryder and Te’tukhe heard the vibration first, just a dull, hard beat as if something hard drummed on the rocky terrain just north of where they hunted in the woods.
“My God, what the hell!” Ryder yelled, spinning his horse around to look across the woods at Te’tukhe, even as his brother turned in astonishment.
And then came
the thunder of hundreds of hooves, followed by the sound of horses blowing hard as they ran, with high-pitched whinnies.
“Horses!” Te’tukhe yelled back. “They’re coming from the north! Come brother!”
They pushed their mounts into a hard ride along deer paths, through clearings, across streams and finally they broke free of the forest and reined their horses in, the animals blowing hard, as the brothers looked down on the Plain below.
“Dear God!” Ryder said aloud, looking in astonishment at the hundreds of horses, a dust cloud rising above them as men herded them towards the river. And then Ryder and Te’tukhe became aware of the men’s voices, of their urgent shouts and yells to each other to keep the herd moving, to keep them running towards the river and as those words rose, echoing and lifting in the valley, Ryder turned to his brother and saw his own disbelief mirrored on the Ugákhpa’s face.
“They’re Bannock!” Te’tukhe said.
Ryder nodded, watching as the horses thundered on by not a mile below them. “And they’re heading straight for our camp. They’ll take the horses right past our teepees as they herd them towards the corral. And the girls and Harry and Kimana are there alone,” he looked back at Te’tukhe, seeing the panic on his face, for both men knew that Madeleine had planned to go up into the woods to set snares.
“We can’t stop them!” Te’tukhe said, looking down at the horses. “We haven’t a chance of stopping them.”
“No, but we can let some of those men know it’s us, come on,” Ryder said and kicked his horse on down through the trees.
By the time they reached that lush valley below, the Bannock had seen the two men riding out of the foothills to meet them. Ryder and Te’tukhe quickly raised their arms in friendship and four of the riders yelled out to each other before breaking away from the herd to ride towards them.
Ryder recognised two of the men as village elders. The other two were strangers to him, boys grown into men since he saw them last. He raised his hand in greeting again, calling out in bannaite’ as Te’tukhe rode alongside him.
