Finders Keepers

by Andrea Spalding

  “Young men have to earn eagle feathers,” echoed the Old Man’s voice in Danny’s head. “Your time will come.”

  Danny stood up and squared his shoulders.

  Remembering the patience and persistence of the young hunter and the strength and courage of the eagle, Danny walked determinedly back to the Interpretive Centre and called the elevator.

  He stepped out on the display level, and walked through the PRIVATE door, down the corridor to Mrs. Brokenhorn’s office. He paused, took a deep breath, rapped firmly on the door, and cautiously opened it.

  Joshua and his mother were still there, talking quietly. Joshua’s face lit up when he saw Danny but he said nothing, just watched as Danny came into the office.

  Danny hesitated then walked slowly over to the desk.

  Mrs. Brokenhorn smiled and waited for him to speak.

  “I’m sorry I got mad. I know my point’s important, but I need it for my school project… and I need time… I can’t figure it out. I don’t know if the lance point should be here, or maybe I should give it to Joshua’s grandfather. I’m not sure who it really belongs to.”

  “I’m not really sure, either Danny,” Mrs. Brokenhorn admitted softly.

  Danny looked at her in surprise.“You’re not?”

  Mrs. Brokenhorn pushed her dark hair back from her forehead and leaned back thoughtfully. “No, you see, the person who made this lance point may not have been Peigan. We don’t know what nations used the Jump in the early days. So even if you thought the lance point should be given back to the people of the First Nations, no one would know which group to give it to.”

  Danny felt a small measure of relief. “So I’m not the only one trying to figure it out?”

  Mrs. Brokenhorn smiled, stood up and walked around the desk. She patted Danny on the shoulder.

  “No, this is something I deal with all the time. Joshua has told me how important this point is to you, but I want you to seriously think about it and its place in history. I’m not going to insist you donate it to the museum now…. no one is going to snatch it from you… I’m going to trust that you think it through and do the right thing.”

  She looked across at Joshua. “So, are you going to take Danny to the pow wow?”

  “The drums… I’d forgotten,” said Danny, “Will I get to see the drummers?”

  “You bet,” said Joshua. “And the dancers. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Joshua and Danny ran exuberantly down the hill. The drumming had stopped but news of the pow wow had spread around the Interpretive Centre and other visitors streamed and flowed through the tipi ring towards the arbour of branches. Danny followed Joshua closely and they wove expertly through the crowd and dodged under an leafy archway into the dancing ground.

  Danny caught his breath in awe. The dancing ground was large, a gym-sized patch of prairie grass covered with long strips of carpet. “The carpet keeps the dust down when we’re dancing,” explained Joshua.

  All along one side, under the shade of the arbour sat the drum teams. Danny counted eleven drums. No wonder he had heard the drumming all the way up the hill. The drums were large, mounted on stands decorated with bright streamers and feathers. Each drumming and singing team sat in a group around their drum. The team members were dressed in traditional clothes, most were men, some wearing white stetsons to keep the sun off their faces, but some drums had several women as team members. The size of the teams varied. Some drums had three or four people sitting around them, others as many as twelve members each with their own drumsticks at the ready.

  “It’s awesome,” breathed Danny as he looked at the gaily decorated drums and spectacularly clothed teams.

  “You wait,” replied Joshua. “The dancers will be in soon.” He pointed to a main entrance at the far end of the dancing ground. Danny could see many traditionally costumed people milling around. “Everyone’s assembling for the grand entrance,” said Joshua hurriedly, “I have to go and join them. You can sit on any seat on this side of the dancing ground.” He waved his hand briefly towards the arbour wall behind Danny. “I’ll be back after the procession.” Joshua ran lightly across the strips of carpet and vanished into the colourful crowd thronging the entrance.

  Feeling abandoned, Danny looked around. There were plenty of empty benches, sheltered from the sun by the leafy bower. He chose a middle one, grateful it was in the shade, for the afternoon sun was beating down fiercely. No one joined him. The drum teams were poised on the far side of the ground, and all the First Nations people seemed to be outside the main entrance waiting for something. The other white visitors were dotted in small groups around the empty benches. They looked as uncomfortable as Danny felt, squatting uneasily on their strip of bench, ignoring each other’s presence and obviously wondering what they had let themselves in for.

  Then, at a hidden signal the drumming started and a disembodied voice spoke from the loud speaker. “Will you please rise for the grand entrance.”

  Danny scrambled to his feet.

  Slowly and solemnly a great procession entered the dancing grounds and wound around. First came a young man proudly carrying a tall banner made of many eagle feathers. He was followed by three flag bearers wearing the long flowing feathered ceremonial head-dresses. Danny recognized two of the flags, the Canadian maple leaf and Alberta’s provincial flag. The third flag he had not seen before, it was brilliant red with a white circle in the middle containing a large black buffalo. Eagle feathers radiated from the bottom of the circle.

  Then came the elders. They entered six abreast in several lines. They walked slowly and rhythmically with a tiny pause between each step, following the insistent beat of the drums. Danny recognized Joshua’s grandfather in the first row and he grinned hugely, but the old man was intent and stared straight ahead, solemnly leading his people around the dancing ground. Then the rest of the dancers moved in, again six abreast. Slowly the space became a dazzling array of colour. The sun shone and sparkled from a million beads sewn into elaborate patterns. Men, women, and children filed past dressed in buckskin, moosehide, flowing jewel-colored shawls, and a multitude of incredible headdresses. They carried eagle feather fans, blankets folded over their arms, elaborately painted skin shields or beaded pouches. They wheeled gracefully around and around until the last set of dancers had entered. The dancing ground was full of a slow, stately whirling kaleidoscope of vivid colour and beauty. Nothing Danny had ever seen or read had prepared him for this sight. It was magnificent.

  The drumming stopped, and everyone silently faced the same way. Danny craned his neck trying to see Joshua, but there were far to many people in too many costumes to be able to pick him out. An important looking man in whitebeaded deerskin with flowing fringes and flowing headdress stepped from the first row, closely followed by Joshua’s grandfather. Together they walked up to a microphone.

  Once again it was obvious that the Old Man was offering up a prayer in Blackfoot. Danny shut his eyes tight and listened to the music of the language.

  “Weird,” thought Danny. “I’m only a few miles from home but it’s a different world with a different language. I wonder if this is how Joshua’s people feel when they visit Fort Macleod.”

  Once the prayer and the greetings had finished, the atmosphere changed. Smiling and talking quietly amongst themselves, the crowd dispersed from the centre space and filled up the benches. Danny found himself sharing his bench with an extended family of parents, children, cousins, uncles, and aunts. He exchanged shy smiles with them and waited to see what would happen next.

  One of the drum teams commenced drumming and singing. Slowly people rose, formed a circle and began a dance. Danny watched as Joshua and a couple of friends stomped and jigged past. Joshua grinned and Danny waved. The dance was a long one and the beat hypnotic. Danny relaxed and lost himself in the swirl of colour and pageantry.

  “Hey, you hungry?” A grinning Joshua reappeared and interrupted his thoughts by thrusting a large pi
zza-sized object under his nose.

  “What is it?” asked Danny doubtfully. It smelled good but looked weird. Like pizza crust that had risen and bubbled too much. It was covered with something that glistened and dripped.

  “Fried bannock with butter and honey,” said Joshua tearing it in half and thrusting some into Danny hands. “Try it. It’s good.”

  Tentatively Danny took a tiny nibble. “Mmm,” he mumbled enthusiastically and took a great bite, licking his lips as the hot honey and butter dribbled down his chin. “Great but messy,” he laughed in between chews.

  Companionably the boys watched the dancing. Competitions for the best male dancers, female dancers, and costumes were held in between communal grass dances in which all the First Nations people left their benches and joined in together. Danny watched intently. His feet tapped to the insistent rhythm of the drums. He almost wished he could dance. He intently watched the feet of the dancers as they shuffled past. The basic step seemed easy enough if his body would just catch the rhythm, but the elaborate footwork done during the dance competitions took his breath away.

  As if someone had been mind reading, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. It was the chief.

  “We have several visitors at our pow wow today. We would like to invite them to join in a Friendship Dance.”

  “Come on Danny, that means you.” Joshua leaped up and tried to drag Danny with him.

  Danny hung back. “I can’t,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “I’m a real klutz.”

  Joshua looked at Danny. “My people don’t often invite visitors to join in,” he said seriously. “This is a friendship dance.”

  Danny flushed with embarrassment. “I can’t,” he insisted, scared of making a fool of himself. “I can’t dance to save my life, I’m no good at gym or anything like that.” He hesitated. “I’ll trip over my feet and everyone will laugh,” he finished honestly.

  Joshua stuck out a hand and heaved Danny off the bench. “I’ve already told you… this is a friendship dance, we don’t laugh at our friends.”

  Joshua dragged a reluctant Danny onto the dancing ground amongst a group of young boys. They said something in Blackfoot to Joshua and he laughingly replied, then turned to Danny. “Right Danny, let’s see how fast you can catch on. Watch us and we’ll help you with the basic step, but once you’ve got that… watch out!”

  “OK,” said Danny resignedly. “But don’t blame me if your friends all die laughing.”

  The drums started and everyone’s feet responded, even Danny’s.

  Stomp tap, Stomp tap, Stomp tap, Stomp tap….

  It took a while but surrounded by Joshua’s friends encouraging him, Danny slowly managed to catch on to the the basic step.

  Stomp tap, Stomp tap, Stomp tap, Stomp tap….

  It came a little easier. Danny concentrated as the dancers, First Nations and white, pounded rhythmically around in a large circle.

  “This is harder than it looks,” Danny gasped to Joshua as his calf muscles clenched and cramped in protest.

  “Hang in,” encouraged Joshua, “feel the beat.”

  Danny gained confidence and started to relax, not just listening with his ears but feeling the rhythm from the drums and making his body part of the drumbeat.

  “Hey man, you’ve got it,” laughed Joshua and Danny grinned, lost the beat then caught it again.

  Stomp tap, Stomp tap, stomp tap, Stomp tap.

  “I am getting it, I’m really getting it,” realized Danny triumphantly. He began to enjoy himself.

  “Now,” said Joshua from behind him. “Let’s try some fancy bits.”

  Suddenly Danny was surrounded by young men dancing up a storm. Tiny puffs of dust arose from their stomping feet even through the strips of carpet. The drums pounded and the arbour branches shivered and shook in reply. Moccasined toes made elaborated patterns and bodies wove around and around. The drumming intensified and the singing rose high above it.

  “Come on Danny,” yelled Joshua over the drums. “Dance!”

  And Danny danced. His legs bent and he strutted like the Prairie Chicken. His arms crooked and became wings, his feet pounded the earth and became part of its heartbeat. Danny danced till his body ached and the sweat poured down his head and back. He danced till the dust rose and the sky whirled. Danny danced till he could dance no more.

  “Not bad for a whitey,” said one of Joshua’s friends as Danny staggered breathlessly back to his seat as the drums finally ceased. “Not bad at all.”

  Danny collapsed onto the bench, panting.

  The pow wow continued through the hot afternoon, and by sunset showed no sign of abating.

  “I have to go,” said Danny reluctantly. “My mom will be here soon.” He looked curiously at Joshua. “When does it finish?”

  Joshua shrugged. “Some folks will dance and drum all night,” he said. “But dancers in the finals tomorrow will go to bed early.” He yawned. “I’ll walk up to the car park with you.”

  The two boys toiled up the hill and stood on the low concrete edging. The drumming was faint now, but still insistently pulsing through the evening air. They watched for the car.

  “Next week,” said Danny hesitantly, “could you come over to my place?”

  “Guess so,” said Joshua. “Will your folks mind?”

  “No. They like me having friends over.”

  “Even friends from the reserve?’

  “Idiot,” said Danny, tickling Joshua till he wobbled off the concrete ledge. And they chased each other around the car park until Danny’s mom arrived and Joshua waved him off.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Humming happily under his breath, Danny bent over the kitchen table and concentrated on the piece of wood in front of him. It was an off-cut of light balsa wood that looked big enough to make a replacement blade for Brett Gibson’s helicopter. Danny placed both pieces of the broken rotor blade carefully on top of the balsa and traced around the edges with a pencil. Yes, they fitted. If he cut and shaped carefully, his idea should work. Danny opened his tool box and got out his equipment. He lined everything up in front of him, his razor-sharp knife, sandpaper, pencil, ruler and a cutting board. He loved weekends at home. Time to do things he was good at, no school, and no one yelling if he worked slowly. He wished the whole week could be made up of weekends.

  Actually, the week at school since the pow wow had been surprisingly bearable. Danny was puzzled though that he’d not heard from Carol; she’d promised to get in touch with him, but perhaps she was busy. Apart from that, the only other irritation had been Brett Gibson’s bugging.

  “You fixed my helicopter yet, Dummy?” had been Brett’s daily greeting on the school bus.

  Danny sighed. Brett had a point. Danny really should have fixed the helicopter last weekend, but going to the pow wow and working on his project outline had taken up all his time.

  Tapping his pencil thoughtfully against his teeth, Danny reviewed the past week, wondering what had made the difference. “Must be my lucky lance point,” he thought. “Mr. Berg hardly got mad at me at all.”

  Mr. Berg had raised his eyebrows when Danny handed in a typewritten project outline.

  “It’s all my work, honest, Mr. Berg.” Danny had quickly explained. “My mom just typed it so you could read it.”

  Mr. Berg had grunted but accepted the work. In fact Mr. Berg only lost his temper with Danny once that week. Danny grinned as he remembered the incident. It had been a blast.

  Danny and Mike had been shoving each other trying to be first to get a drink from the water fountain after gym. The combined weight of the two boys wrestling on the edge of the ancient basin pulled the whole unit away from the wall. The plaster flaked away at the back, the pipe broke and cold water spewed out across the corridor. Danny and Michael were instantly soaked, but laughing so hard and hysterically that they couldn’t call for help. The water poured out in a huge fountain and formed a lake at their feet. Both boys, helpless and hiccupping with laughter, tried t
o catch their breath enough to shout. They needn’t have bothered. Guess who did it for them?

  “Hey Mr. Berg!” Brett Gibson yelled as he came out of the gym and saw what was happening. “Dummy Danny’s trying to flood the school.”

  Half the class rushed out excitedly to paddle in the corridor. Marylise tried to stop the water by stuffing her fist in the top of the broken pipe, but the force of the water made three jets instead of one, soaking some of the bystanders.

  “Surf’s up,” hollered Brett Gibson and took a running dive through the water and slid on his belly over the wet linoleum, down the length of the corridor. Several other kids promptly followed.

  Mr. Berg erupted angrily from the gym, roared at them, then raced off down into the basement to find the janitor and the stop tap.

  By the time the water had been turned off the entire Grade 5 class was drenched to the skin and Mr. Berg had furiously given them all a detention. They had to change back into gym shorts and spread their clothes out on the playing field to dry in the sunshine. The class was lectured for behaving like kindergarten kids and Michael and Danny spent the rest of the morning helping the janitor mop up.

  Danny chuckled out loud; he’d missed math and science during clean up, and all the class seemed to think the riot was worth a DT. He’d even glimpsed Mr. Berg laughing as he explained the uproar to the staff. Not a bad deal all round.

  “You sound in a good mood, son.” Danny’s father entered the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee from the coffee pot and sat at the table. “What are you up to today?”

  Danny pushed the helicopter over to his father. “I’m making a new rotor blade for this.”

  His father picked up the helicopter and the broken blade and examined them. “This the one you broke? Brett Gibson’s?” he asked.

  Danny flushed. “How did you know?”

  His father grinned. “It’s a small town, son. You learn a lot in a store just by keeping your ears open.” He put down the helicopter and nodded towards the wood in front of Danny. “Think you can do it?”