The Canyon Jack Schaefer

by Les Weil

  The wind that blew above the plain moaned unceasing and grew stronger. It sent streamers through the cracks in the high rocks and these chuckled to each other with a hollow sounding. And the spirits of the place emerged like mist from their rock homes and floated in the air drinking its cool darkness and took hold of the wind and raced with it. They were not demons. They were Maiyun and their voices were like the voices of the Maiyun of the rock walls of his own canyon and they knew he was there and they knew him. "Little brother," they said, "have you found the bones of the warrior you seek?" They raced off, holding to the wind, and swirled in a mystic dance and raced back. "Little brother. Wait until the moon talks to you. ..."

  The moon was golden but its light was silver. Its light silvered the opposite edge of the crevice and crept downward. The soft luminance moved down the stone and fingered gently into a hollowed recess at the base. It was a recess that could not be seen from the cliff top because of the overhanging rock. It was a recess that could not be seen from the floor of the crevice because of the clumped thick bushes in front. It could be seen from the ledge midway on the cliff as the slanting light of the moon slipped in. It was a hidden recess into which a wolf could drag the body of a dead warrior for a feasting on the flesh. And the light of the moon, slipping in, shone softly on the pale wan whiteness of bones. ...

  In the darkness after moonset Little Bear, the strange one, the different one, moved out from the base of the climbing rocks on to the open plain. He carried the lance and the pemmican pouch and the bag made of old lodge skins. The pemmican pouch was almost empty but the lodge-skin bag was heavy with the bones of a Cheyenne warrior that had lain unburied in the land of the Crows. He moved cautiously for this was where the hunting party had pursued him and the Crows were clever and relentless enemies. He moved a short distance and waited and listened. He moved again and he waited again and listened. There was no sound. He found a small stone the size of his fist and threw it as far as he could to one side and heard it land thumping softly on the sod. He listened. He heard a prairie owl hoot not far from where the stone had fallen and another answer on the other side and then another in the distance and yet another. Instantly he turned and ran. He ran straight again for the climbing rocks and behind him and gathering to come after him he heard other feet running, many of them. He reached the rocks and leaped and strove up among them and this time he heard the feet following on the hard footing. They were close behind him. They would not let him escape now that they were so near. The bag was heavy and he groaned at the shortness of his legs and they were gaining. Desperately he leaped and he stumbled and fell and the bag slipped from his grasp and the lance went clattering and he rolled and caught himself and crawled quickly into a deeper pocket of darkness among the rocks.

  He heard them searching. He heard them poking into the black pockets with their lances and working toward him. He remembered. A Cheyenne did not die like a prairie dog crouched in terror in its hole. A Cheyenne died fighting and his face was toward the enemies he fought. And he remembered again. He had done as his father had told him. His legs were short like the legs of the badger and not for fast running. But in his arms was the strength of the grizzly from many long weeks of climbing a rock wall and chipping hard stone upon stone.

  They were almost upon him. He sprang forth to meet them. In his arms was the strength of the great grizzly bear and the laughter of his brave father was in his mouth. "Oh Maiyun of these rocks," he cried, "let us fight!" He brushed aside the lance of the first of the enemies as if it were the play fire-stick of a child. He seized the first of the enemies in his arms and he raised that one off the ground and threw him mightily among the others and they scattered and he sprang among them and struck one to the right of him and one to the left of him and he sprang back and waited for them to come.

  But they did not come.

  They were confused in the dark and afraid. They spoke to one another and the fear was plain in their voices. "This is one," they said, "who laughs when he is alone against many." They stepped backward. "This is one," they said, "who calls upon the spirits to fight with him." They stepped back farther and were more ;ifraid. "This is a demon," they said, "who has taken the form of an enemy to draw us into the evil place to our deaths." They turned and ran. They did not stop until they reached their horses tied to pegs in a hollow of the plain. They mounted and rode swiftly away and the tale they would tell grew large in their minds as they rode. . . .

  Little Bear came to the village from the west. The sun was settling toward the horizon behind him. He was tired and the lodge-skin bag was very heavy. He did not go around the village to come in through the cntrance on the east. He went straight between two lodges on the west and into the open space of the central circle. He did not look to one side or the other. He went past the lodge of Yellow Moon and did not turn his head to see Spotted Turtle in the entrance watching him. He went past the sacred lodges of the medicine arrows and of the buffalo hat. He went straight to the lodge of White Wolf.

  There was silence in the lodge when he entered. He hung the lance by a leather thong on a lodgepole. He laid the bag on the ground. The wife of White Wolf took her cooking things and left the lodge. White Wolf had seen him coming and the pipe was ready. They sat side by side on the couch of White Wolf. They passed the pipe.

  "My friend. Will you speak for me once more? In the bag are my presents."

  A great wailing came from the lodge of Yellow Moon. The mother of Yellow Moon and of Spotted Turtle mourned over the bones of her man and women came from other lodges and wailed with her. As they wailed they made the burial preparations. They laid the bones out in correct order on a fine buffalo robe. They laid over them the finest of clothing. They folded the robe over from both sides until it was a long bundle and they wrapped ropes around it. They carried the bundle out of the lodge and fastened it on a travois of poles behind a fine horse.

  The procession moved out of the village in the evening dusk and everyone who could walk moved with it. The mother of Yellow Moon and of Spotted Turtle led the fine horse pulling the travois. Yellow Moon walked behind the travois carrying weapons that had been favorites of his father. Spotted Turtle walked beside him carrying the pipes her father had liked best and a pouch of fragrant tobacco well mixed with powdered bark of the red willow. Behind him came the people of the village and among them, already saying the words over in his mind, was the old man who had been named to sing the death song. It would be one of the ancient death songs handed down from the forefathers and he would add special mention of the man being buried. And behind all these walked Little Bear, holding back a bit as a visitor should. He walked solemnly carrying the lance upright as a warrior should walk to the burial of another brave warrior.

  All morning and most of the afternoon the women of the lodge of Yellow Moon worked with their sewing things. All morning and most of the afternoon the wife of White Wolf and her married daughter and the members of her sewing guild worked in the lodge of White Wolf. They worked hard for the time was short. One night had passed since the presents, strange presents from the strange one but presents that made a mighty tale for the village to claim, had been taken to the lodge of Yellow Moon. The answer must be given before another night passed for that was the custom. There could be no question what the answer would be. The presents had been accepted. White Wolf and Little Bear sat cross-legged in front of the lodge they shared and passed the pipe. There was a great commotion in the village, people moving about and horses being led here and there and much shouting and laughter, but they paid no attention to all this. They passed the pipe and the feeling of a man for a man was between them.

  The commotion increased and the shouts rose higher and then there was quiet. A procession moved across the center circle of the village. It started by the lodge of Yellow Moon where Yellow Moon himself sat alone on his couch with his breast full of peace that the spirit of his father was treading the path where all footprints point the same way and his mind full of
pride at what he was having done for the sister who was close to his heart. It was a big procession. In the lead was the father-in-law of Yellow Moon. He walked with head high for he had fine words to speak. Behind him was Spotted Turtle. She was dressed in new clothes of soft deerskin well decorated with beads made of the bright stones found along the river called Niobrara and with quills of the porcupine stained with many colors. She rode on a fine horse led as was right by a woman who was not related to her. Behind her came other women carrying armloads of well-worked buffalo robes and stout weapons. And behind them came yet more women leading many fine horses, fifteen of them, black and bay and chestnut and white-spotted, and all of these wore bridles of strong braided rawhide. And behind again came the other people of the village and they spread out fanlike around the procession as it stopped in front of White Wolf and Little Bear. And among the people thus spread out was the mother of Spotted Turtle. Her legs were no longer bare. There were no new gashes on them under the leggings. She did not push forward among the people. She wore a robe and held it up so that it covered her face all but her eyes. It was not right that a new son-in-law should look upon the mother of his wife face-to-face or speak to her until time had passed and they had exchanged special gifts after the marriage. That too was according to custom.

  The father-in-law of Yellow Moon stepped forward. He did not speak to Little Bear. He addressed himself only to White Wolf.

  "It is Yellow Moon who speaks. Not if he sent all the horses that roam the wide plains to the edges of the earth, not if he sent weapons and robes enough to fill a big lodge, could he match the presents he has received. But he does what it is his to do. When the sun has risen tomorrow a lodge made of new skins of the cow buffalo will be raised for the man called Little Bear and the woman who is his wife. It will contain all things needful. She is here to be given to him. With her are these robes and these weapons and these horses. Yellow Moon has spoken."

  The wife of White Wolf and her married daughter came out of the lodge and spread a robe upon the ground. They lifted Spotted Turtle from the fine horse and placed her so that she sat in the middle of the robe. Young men of the village pushed forward. They jostled each other for the honor of taking hold of the robe. They lifted it and Spotted Turtle upon it and carried it into the lodge and lowered it carefully to the ground. They came out laughing and looking at Little Bear with sidelong glances and the feeling of young men for another young man was in their glances. And the wife of White Wolf and her daughter went back into the lodge and took Spotted Turtle by the hands and lifted her to her feet and led her to the rear of the lodge. She stood quietly while they took from her the clothing that she wore. They dressed her in the new clothing they too had made. They unbraided her hair and combed it and rebraided it. They put upon her new ornaments, rings for her fingers and beaded hoops for her ears.

  Outside the lodge the young men leaped and laughed and made jokes. The older people watched and wondered what Little Bear would do with the fine gifts spread before him. He rose and stood as tall as he could on his short legs like the legs of the badger. He looked at the gifts and he was very proud. He looked at White Wolf. He spoke. "My friend. You have been to me as a father in this. Your wife has been as a mother. Your daughter has been as a sister. The gifts are yours." And there was much shouting among the people. What Little Bear had done was right because White Wolf had been as a father. It was generous too because White Wolf was not the real father. And White Wolf called his wife and daughter out of the lodge and the husband of his daughter from among the people and the parents of the husband of his daughter and the old man who was his cousin. He told them to choose and they divided the presents according to custom. And inside the lodge Spotted Turtle heard and her heart was filled with a happiness that her man was generous as well as brave. ...

  The food had been prepared. Spotted Turtle still sat at the rear of the lodge and Little Bear sat beside her. The wife of White Wolf put food in bowls for them. She cut the food for Spotted Turtle in small pieces so that Spotted Turtle would need to make no effort in eating. This night she must do no work.

  Much food had been prepared. There was need for that. The young men of the village came visiting. One came and another and then more and the lodge was crowded. They ate the food. They laughed and made jokes and talked in loud voices. They were showing Little Bear that they were his friends and they were glad he had obtained the woman he wanted. Some of them might even stay the whole night and sleep there in the lodge. But White Wolf was a man of experience. When the food was gone and the talking was not so loud, he rose to his feet. "My friends," he said. "It grieves me that my lodge is small. I have no couches to offer you." His face was sad but his eyes were bright and twinkling and the young men understood. They could stay and sleep on the ground and be there for the morning meal which would be the first meal Spotted Turtle would prepare as a wife and that would be in accord with a custom. But they understood. They rose too. They laughed more and jostled one another with their elbows and looked sidelong at Little Bear and Spotted Turtle. They left the lodge still laughing and jostling. They were good young men. They were fine friends. White Wolf spoke then to his wife. "My woman," he said. "It is long since we walked together in the night and remembered when we were young and my left arm was as the arm of other men." He went to the lodge entrance and looked back. Words rushed to the lips of Little Bear. "Oh White Wolf. I must hunt now for the lodge of Yellow Moon and for the lodge that will be my own. But one quarter of each buffalo I kill will be yours." And White Wolf spoke. "There is no need of meat. You have honored my lodge." He went out into the night and his wife went after him and she paused in the entrance to look back and to unfasten the door-skin so that it fell and covered the opening.

  Little Bear and Spotted Turtle were alone in the lodge. They could not look at one another. They tried and always their eyes turned away. He rose to his feet and stirred the fire with a small stick. He was shy and afraid again and he did not know what to say. He lay down on the couch that had a new covering spread over it. When he turned his head he could see her at the rear of the lodge. She was standing up and laying aside her robe. She was shy too and afraid and could not speak. She was very beautiful to him in the firelight and his heart beat in a strong rhythm in his breast. He looked at her and she was wearing a protective rope, the rope that all unmarried women wore at night and when they went abroad, the rope that all decent women wore when their men were away from the home village, the rope that meant no man worthy of being in the tribe would approach them in the way he should not. It was a small woven rope that went around the waist and was knotted in front and the two ends were carried down and passed between the thighs and wound around them to the knees. A newly married woman could wear such a rope even with her husband for ten days after the marriage and the husband, if he were a good husband, would respect it for that long. Spotted Turtle was wearing such a rope. Her hands rested on the knot and were still. She looked at him and her thoughts were plain on her face. It was her right for now to decide what would be done. Yet she would not claim that right. She was shy and she was afraid and yet she would let him decide. She was very beautiful to him and he could speak. "Oh Spotted Turtle, I am afraid of the newness as you are afraid. It is enough that you lie on the couch with me and we grow accustomed to being together in the night." She came to the couch and lay beside him and he pulled the new covering over them. He put his arms about her and was still. Slowly the stiffness went out of her body and she was quiet and relaxed beside him. Their voices were low as they talked in the darkness and the newness of being together. ...

  It was the third night in their own lodge, the fourth night of their marriage. He had hunted well and sent much meat to his mother-in-law and to the wife of White Wolf. He lay on the couch and watched his woman. She had cooked a big stew of meat and of pomines blanches and of turnips and Yellow Moon had eaten with them and pronounced it good. She was preparing now for the sleeping. She held the protective rope i
n her hand. She let it slip through her fingers and fall to the ground. She came and stood by the couch. "It is my wish," she said.

  He hunted. Never was such hunting known in that village. He laughed and he shouted. Never did a man laugh better or shout louder at the life leaping in his blood. He wrestled with the other men and as he stood firmly on his short legs and strove with the strength in his arms no man could throw him. He rode the painted pony in the village races. Never did a man ride more recklessly and care less whether he lost or won as long as there was the wind of the running in his face and his woman was watching him ride. He hunted and laughed and played and loved and life was very good. . . .

  Life is not all hunting and laughing and playing and loving. . . .

  The old crier called out the names. The name of Little Bear was among them. At the appointed time he entered the lodge of Yellow Moon. He wore the fine robe that the mother of Yellow Moon, who was his rnother-in-law, had made for him and that he had accepted in the ceremony of the purifying smoke of the sweet grasses. There was no laughter in his mouth. He sat in the place pointed out to him. It was first at the left of Yellow Moon, the place of most honor. Food was offered him and he ate as all the men in the lodge ate. He finished and they finished and they all wiped their hands.

  Yellow Moon brought forth his ceremonial pipe. He filled it with tobacco well mixed with powdered red willow bark. He placed a pinch of powdered buffalo chip on top of the tobacco in the pipe for that was the custom of his tribal division. He held the pipe vertical, stem up, before him. "My friends. My father died in the land of the Crows. The war party he led there brought back no horses. It is in my mind now to lead a war party against the Crows and take many horses. I ask if you will go with me."

  Yellow Moon pointed with the pipestem to the sky above where Heammawihio dwells and to the earth beneath where the Maiyun move and to the four cardinal directions around. He lit the pipe and smoked. He passed the pipe to Little Bear in the place of most honor at his left.