Finders Keepers

by Andrea Spalding

  Danny propped the card up where he could see it and poised his hands above the cubes.

  “Ready?” asked Carol.

  “Ready,” he replied looking at the cubes.

  “GO.”

  Danny’s fingers flew. He turned and pushed and rolled the cubes, checked with the card, and in no time at all there was the pattern on the table in front of him.

  “Wow! You’re fast,” said Carol admiringly as she clicked off the stop watch and entered the time in a small book. “Want to try a more difficult one?”

  They sorted the cubes several times, then looked at pictures, and sorted them into an order that told a story. They played games with numbers and words and laughed a lot. Danny even relaxed enough to do some spelling and math for Carol.

  “Phew! Is that recess already?” Danny asked Carol in surprise as the school buzzer interrupted them.

  “Oh no,” Carol laughed. “That’s the final buzzer. It’s home time. You’ve worked all afternoon.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know school could go so fast,” remarked Danny. “What happens now?”

  “You go home and enjoy your weekend,” Carol stuffed the papers and equipment into her briefcase. “I’ll look at everything you’ve done and get back to you some time next week.” She looked up at Danny. “You’ve worked really hard Danny. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “Have I passed?” said Danny eagerly.

  Carol laughed. “Remember what I said?”

  “You can’t pass or fail on this,” Danny chanted along with her.

  “Right. You’ve done well, Danny. Believe me?”

  “OK.” Danny grinned back. “It was fun. ’Bye Carol.” And he ran to catch the school bus.

  He slouched, happy and relaxed, in the bus seat, turning his lance point over in his pocket. The luck seemed to be working. Today hadn’t been that bad. Carol was nice, his mom could help him with his project outline, and tomorrow was Saturday and the visit to Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. Things were looking up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Saturday was a perfect T-shirt and cut-off day. In true prairie fashion, spring had whisked into summer overnight. It was hot.

  Danny, on the lookout for Joshua, excitedly hung out of the car window as his mother swung into the entrance of Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump Interpretive Centre.

  “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” remarked his mother doubtfully.

  “Joshua’ll be here,” Danny said confidently and leapt from the car. “Anyway I can always phone you if there’s a problem.”

  His mother nodded and drove off.

  PUM pom pom pom, PUM pom pom pom. Distant drums caught Danny’s attention as his mother’s car roared away. Insistently they pounded and called to him, accompanied by a high wordless song, thin as the breeze. They called from below, from beyond the road that curved up the hillside, from a patch of sunny prairie where a circle of tipis and trucks protected an arbour of tree branches and brush. He couldn’t see the drums but Danny sensed they were there, hidden in the interwoven branches, enticing him nearer.

  “Want to go down?” Joshua materialized soundlessly beside Danny. “The drum teams are practicing for the dance competition this afternoon.”

  Danny turned to say something, then stopped in surprise. This was a new Joshua; gone were the usual T-shirt and jeans, instead he wore a loose red cotton tunic belted with a leather thong, breeches and breechcloth made of navy blue blanketing and trimmed with red braid, and beautiful red and blue beaded moccasins with hide ankle wraps. This wasn’t the kid Danny had hung around Fort Macleod with. This was a stranger, a Peigan Indian, an unknown quantity.

  Joshua laughed. “What’s the matter Danny, scared of me?”

  This was so close to the truth that Danny flushed uncomfortably. “You… you just look… different.”

  Joshua gave him a friendly push. “Come on. You’ve seen outfits like this before.”

  Danny wobbled and teetered on the concrete ledge. “Sure I have,” he countered. “In the museum.” He regained his balance and grinned across at Joshua. “So, why are you wearing one? You a museum exhibit or something?”

  Joshua looked at Danny consideringly. “No,” he said softly, “I’m no exhibit. I’m for real. I’m a dancer.”

  Danny was immediately aware he had said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. “Are you dancing today then?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Yup, this afternoon,” Joshua said proudly. “At the pow wow. It’s a big celebration. My people are transferring a tipi over to the Interpretive Centre. You can come if you like.”

  Danny was now totally out of his depth. “What do you mean, ’transferring a tipi’? Handing it over to someone?”

  “NO WAY! you can’t just hand a tipi over,” said Joshua, shocked. “Tipis have power. They have to be transferred from one person to another in a sacred ceremony.”

  “They do?” Danny was baffled.

  “Come on, you’ll see.” Joshua leapt over the concrete barrier and bounced lightly down the hillside in giant leaps that showed his familiarity with the terrain. Danny copied, leaping ever increasing distances as he gained momentum on the slope. He reached the bottom in a slither of small stones but, somewhat to his surprise, still upright.

  The drumming was louder now. Danny stood and listened. The rhythms curled around him like the heartbeat of the earth.

  “Come on, slowpoke.” Joshua darted across the road that separated the hillside from the prairie, and dodged into the ring of tipis. Danny followed.

  The tipis were large; larger than Danny had realized. Stiffly they rose from the prairie grass, a wall of giant white cones painted with vivid designs, surrounding and crowding him, protecting their territory. Then there were the people. People busy doing jobs Danny had never done, had never dreamed needed doing. A youth handled a long pole to manipulate a smoke flap way above Danny’s head. A woman sat in a doorway sewing fringe onto a shawl. An older man pounded wooden tipi pegs into the ground; a team of young people, long hair streaming in the wind, coordinated to set up the tall poles to frame another tipi; a group of teenage girls laughingly hurled firewood off the back of a truck to waiting friends, and small children ran around among them all, shouting excitedly. The whole area was a hive of activity orchestrated by the pulse of drums, but Danny felt isolated. It was as though he wasn’t there.

  “No one looks at me,” he thought uncomfortably. “I don’t belong here. Where is Joshua!”

  “Psst, Danny.”

  A sibilant whisper from low down made Danny jump.

  “Come and watch. The ceremony’s just starting.” Joshua was kneeling in a tipi entrance. “You can sit here, in the doorway,” he continued in a low voice. “But don’t come inside.” He tugged Danny’s leg and motioned for Danny to move over and sit at the side of the doorway.

  Danny knelt and looked into another world.

  The books Danny read had always described the insides of tipis as dark and smoky. But this interior was bathed in sunlight. The sun glowed through the tipi walls, illuminating the bright geometric designs on the wall liner and the intent faces of the participants. Danny was immediately aware of the fact he was watching something serious. There was a thin haze of smoke, but Danny only noticed it because of the subtle fragrance. Unconsciously he sniffed and tried to identify it.

  “Sweetgrass,” Joshua murmured.

  The tipi was crowded. Two elderly women sat on plastic folding chairs, but most people were sitting cross-legged on blankets around the circular walls. Danny copied them, crossing his legs and straightening his back.

  The grassy floor in the centre of the tipi was empty but for a shallow, sandy depression containing a small fire. A young man, wearing his hair in a single braid, knelt beside the fire and tended it with wooden tongs until it glowed steadily. Immediately opposite Danny, beyond the fire, sat Joshua’s grandfather.

  The stillness emanating from the old man was so complete Danny could almost touch it.
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  Silence hung and shimmered in the air for a long time.

  With a breathy sound like a ripple of wind amongst dry leaves, the old man spoke. The language was Blackfoot, but Danny knew it was a prayer. He bowed his head and shut his eyes and let the sounds wash around and enfold him.

  A feeling of movement made him open his eyes. The fire tender leaned across the tipi floor and dropped some live coals from the tongs onto a small sandy mound at the old man’s feet. With almost imperceptible movements, the old man directed the hot coals be split, and minute amounts of the glowing embers placed around the rim of the sandy mound, at the four points of the compass, the rest dropped in the middle. The young man finished and sank back on his haunches by the central fire. The old man moved something carefully onto the middle coal. A thin smudge of smoke rose and the fragrance in the air grew stronger. Danny leaned forward excitedly so he could see clearly. He was witnessing the burning of a braid of sweetgrass.

  The old man passed a small bone to the fire tender and the young man strode out to the tipi entrance, stepping over Danny, and raised it to his lips. A thin high whistle sounded. The young man turned North, South, East and West, each time blowing the bone whistle.

  “He’s inviting the world to witness the ceremony,” Joshua whispered to Danny.

  So many unfamiliar things slowly began to unfold that Danny lost track of what was happening. The low hum of the incomprehensible language, the slow, deliberate pace of the ceremony, the heat of the sun, all combined to put him in a trance state. He was never able to fully explain, but somehow he felt his spirit mingled and became part of the ritual. He witnessed people bathing themselves in the cleansing smoke of the sweetgrass, and accepting symbols painted on their faces and began to feel and grasp the elusive concept that somehow these people were not just being given a tipi. They were being offered a symbol of power, protection maybe, that they had to cherish and care for.

  That was as close as Danny could get. He didn’t know if his interpretation was right, but he knew he was witnessing something serious and important.

  Without warning, the atmosphere changed. The people in the tipi smiled and chatted with each other. Blankets and quilts wrapped in plastic appeared and were presented to the elder women. The elder men were given gifts of tobacco and cigarettes.

  “I guess it’s over,” said Danny in a somewhat dazed voice. He was suddenly aware that his legs were cramped and his back ached and that he had sat without moving for an unknown length of time.

  Joshua nodded. “We can leave now. Want to see the buffalo jump before the dancing starts?”

  Danny nodded, though he really wasn’t sure. His senses were dulled from the bombardment of new impressions. He really would have liked to sit down quietly and think about everything he’d experienced. But he stood up stiffly and followed Joshua.

  They walked back uphill, but instead of crossing the car parks and entering the building, Joshua turned aside and clambered up the steep slope beside the building. “Come on,” he called. “We’ll do the exhibits last. Come and see the real stuff first.”

  They scrambled to the top, ducked under a rail, and jogged along the ridge path to where the ground fell sharply away in a great gash. They paused, dusty and sweaty, on the cliff edge to catch their breath.

  The view was magnificent.

  The prairie rolled away below them. It stretched for ever. An endless sea of tawny greens and browns swirled and merged to the blue horizon. Below them, the tipi encampment looked like a paper model.

  Once again Danny was aware of the wind. It rejuvenated and refreshed him. He stretched out his arms like wings and felt it tug and push at his body. “I bet this wind has travelled hundreds of miles,” he said wonderingly, “just blown hundreds of miles over the prairie, and now it’s blowing on us. Wonder if it’s strong enough to lean on?”

  Both boys stepped back from the cliff edge, found a clear space, then turned their backs and leaned slowly and gently into the constant wind. Further, further, till they fell into a laughing huddle on the ground.

  Danny rolled onto his stomach and crawled forward until his head was hanging over the edge of the cliff. It was a long way down to a cruel jagged rock below. He shuddered. “I know the buffalo fell over here. But how did your people make them do it?” he asked.

  “Ah… you ask the right questions, young man,” said a new voice.

  Embarrassed, Danny jumped to his feet, brushing the dust and grass from his clothes, and turned to face Joshua’s grandfather.

  “Can you tell him, Naaahsa?” asked Joshua. “He’s really interested.”

  The old man nodded, looked around, and found a near by rock to sit on. Both boys squatted at his feet.

  “So, how did the buffalo come to this place and sacrifice themselves?”

  Danny nodded.

  “We called them.”

  There was a long silence. Danny tried to think of something to say. Was Joshua’s grandfather teasing him? He looked perfectly serious, but ’calling’ buffalo? Danny stirred uncomfortably but before he could speak the old man spoke again.

  “My father told me of the song of the holy woman. It was a powerful song. She sang only when our people were hungry. She sang to the ’iniskim’, the buffalo stone, and if she sang truly, in a time of need, the buffalo would hear her and come to us.”

  The old man looked out over the prairie as though seeing it in a time long past. He gestured sideways towards the low hills leading up to the buffalo jump cliff. “The runners hid up there and watched for the buffalo to appear, then they would lead them to the runs.”

  Danny’s head was whirling. “But how?” he said exasperated. “How can you lead buffalo? I can’t get our cows to move without yelling and slapping their rumps.”

  “Have you tried asking them, and explaining why you want their milk?”

  Danny’s eyes widened and he looked helplessly at the old man.

  “We didn’t just kill the buffalo. We asked it to sacrifice itself. And when it did, we gave thanks to its spirit, asked for forgiveness, and we wished the herd well. When the herd came to us, the runners dressed as wolves and crept through the grass towards them. The herd would edge away. So carefully and with great skill, the people would entice the buffalo nearer and nearer the runs.”

  Though he was still finding some aspects difficult to grasp, Danny tried to hang in. “The runs,” he asked urgently, “what runs?”

  The old man picked up a stick and drew a line in the dust at his feet.

  “Here is the cliff edge… the jump… where we are sitting.”

  Danny nodded his comprehension.

  The old man placed the tip of this stick firmly in the centre of the line. “The buffalo had to run towards the edge here to fall over.”

  Danny nodded.

  The old man made a series of dots in a V shape with the bottom of the V right on the line. “So the people used the natural valleys and heaps of stones to make a series of runs or funnels that encouraged the buffalo to stampede towards the jump.” He stood up and stretched his arms in front of him in a wide V.

  “But how?” asked Danny persistently.

  “Well, everyone had their job. While the runners were edging the buffalo towards the runs, the rest of the people were also making preparation. Some of them hid behind the rock cairns. When the buffalo appeared the people startled them by leaping up and waving and shouting. The buffalo would then turn away and stampede in the only direction that seemed clear, down the runs. Those that were brave and fast would sacrifice themselves over the jump.”

  Danny sat spellbound. He could imagine it all.

  The buffalo grazed peacefully on the prairie grass, unaware of a man on all fours, a wolf hide draped over his head and shoulders, a man who copied the stalking movements of the wolf. The herd of great brown giants smelled only the hide and edgily moved away from their enemy the wolf …further… and further… into the mouth of the man-made funnel. Suddenly there was a great SHOUT! From
behind a mound of rocks, people jumped up noisily waving sticks and flags. The same from the other side and another mound, then another. The buffalo were surrounded and frightened by the noise and commotion. There was only one clear escape route, forward. Panicked, the giant herd began to run. Hooves pounded the ground. Breath came in pants and gasps. Tiny eyes staring, the buffalo poured down the narrowing fun nel. They came in a great roaring brown tide that made the earth shake. The tide foamed over the edge of the jump and crashed on the rocks below.

  As the roaring in his head died away, Danny realized Joshua was staring at him. “It’s OK,” Danny explained with a grin. “I was just seeing it in my head.”

  The old man smiled. “You have the inner eyes,” he commented gently. “That is a wonderful gift.”

  “That’s the second time this week I’ve been told I had a gift,” said Danny in amazement. “I didn’t think I was good at anything.”

  “Everyone has a gift,” said the old man, “but some take a while to find it.” He looked seriously across at Danny. “Use your gift well.”

  “OK.” Danny wasn’t sure how else to respond. Using his imagination was something that usually got him into trouble. He’d have to think about that one.

  KEEPERS

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stiffly the old man rose to his feet. The boys followed and together they walked along the ridge path to the upper entrance of the Interpretive Centre. Danny hung back a little. He found himself reluctant to go inside the building.

  “What’s the matter Danny? Don’t you want to see the exhibits?” Joshua was puzzled.

  “Well yes, kind of.” Danny struggled to identify his feelings. “It’s just that… a building…” He made a wide sweeping gesture that encompassed the jump and the magnificent view, and the pictures his inner eyes had conjured up. “It’s just that THIS… it’s great. You can’t put things like this in a building.” He scanned the scene thoughtfully. “After watching a real Indian ceremony and then seeing the Buffalo Jump, I’m scared that the exhibits will be a letdown,” he continued honestly.