Both women chuckled.
“Yes, child. It is good., Remember, though, the Sun Dance is tomorrow.”
“Of course, Grandmother. We will come to the ceremonies together.”
Running Deer nodded, pleased. There had been a time when the girl seemed almost unsociable …
Gray Mouse made her way through the camp by a circuitous route, trying to act as normally as she could. No one seemed to notice her. People were coming and going constantly. Even carrying a robe and a bundle, she attracted little attention. A pair of old women noticed her, and one nudged the other and smiled.
‘That one goes to meet a lover,” she chuckled.
The two laughed softly at their understanding of the girl’s secret.
“She is pretty,” one said. “Who is she?”
“I never saw her before,” the other replied. “Another band, probably.”
“Yes. She leaves the camp through another band than her own, to escape notice.”
“You talk as if you know about such things, Pine Leaf,” her companion teased.
“Well, I have some memories, you know,” the other retorted. “And I remember a time when I helped you and Broken Shield …”
“Hush! That was a long time ago.”
“Ah! And your husband does not know …”
“Hush, I said!”
The two old women giggled again and watched the girl as she disappeared in the trees along the river.
Gray Mouse had chosen the specific places that she needed for her plan. First, she went to a well-hidden spot in a plum thicket some distance from the camp, and deposited her pack and sleeping robe. It would be safe. Anyone who chanced to find it would recognize it as the property of another and respect it. She picked up her saddle, previously hidden here, and hurried on.
Mouse threaded her way through the heavy growth to emerge into the open at another point, near the horse herd. She waved to a distant youth who was acting as herdsman, caught her bay gelding, and quickly saddled.
It must appear, now, that she was merely going for a ride. Since she had done so before, that should not be difficult. The previous rides, however, had served a multiple purpose. She knew exactly where she would picket the horse. A quick glance at the sun’s position … Yes, it was going well. Now to leave the horse tied in the gully she had selected, and spend some time with Rose … It would help if her story was as close to the truth as possible.
Shadows were growing long when Mouse left the lodge of her friend’s parents. She headed directly toward the area of the Southern band’s camp, but when she was out of sight, altered her path. Dusk was falling when she reached her cache. It took only a little while to assemble her equipment, including a small ax and a short bow and quiver of arrows that she had hidden previously. Even so, it was nearly full dark when she approached her horse, some distance downstream.
She rode to the top of a rise and paused to look down on the camp of the People. Hundreds of tiny sparks in the darkness marked their cooking fires. Here and there, a lodge cover glowed with the warm light of a fire inside. Mouse had always loved that sight, more noticeable in winter, when all lodges had fires inside. Where will I spend this winter? she wondered. With my own people?
The moon was just rising as Mouse drew rein and dismounted at Medicine Rock. She must not be too long … She did not want to be. There was no way to explain her wish to pause here, except that it seemed appropriate. Here there must be such powerful spirits, such strength. Power that she would need in her quest.
Above her, the cliff towered, grim and forbidding. She fought down the urge to run, to mount and ride away as fast as the bay could carry her. She had never been this close to the Rock, and its spirits seemed to reach out at her from the darkness.
Deliberately, she turned her back on the threat and drew out the little handful of twigs and tinder that she had prepared. It took only a moment to strike a spark and blow it into flame. She laid the fire carefully on the sand bar, added a few sticks, then a pinch of tobacco to honor whatever spirits might dwell here.
Then she stood, looking up at the flickering firelight on the gray stone. She raised her arms …
“Help me,” she prayed. “Help me to find my people.”
Her tiny fire was already dying when she remounted and turned the horse toward the place where a narrow path led up and around the rock and would enable her to travel to the north.
They reached the top, and she reined in the bay to let him catch his wind for a moment while she sighted her course by the Real-star. A rustling, shuffling noise caught her attention, and fear gripped her heart. Someone or some thing was following her along the narrow trail up the cleft in the bluff.
Mouse was instantly ready to dig heels into the flank of the bay and flee across the prairie. Only the reaction of the horse prevented her from doing so. The animal pricked up his ears, turned to look in the direction of the trail he had just ascended, and gave a friendly snort.
The creature that lifted itself over the rim was no fearful spirit-being. It was Yellow Dog.
33
Dark Antelope was troubled. He was still smarting over the quarrel that had marred this Sun Dance celebration for him. It was beyond understanding, how that could have happened so suddenly. He had thought that he and Gray Mouse were on good terms. They had not actually talked of marriage, but there had been broad hints. Somehow he had assumed that soon they would discuss it.
He knew that his father, Singing Wolf, had discussed the propriety with Running Deer. True, there was some confusion about their friendship. It was like a brother-sister relationship, yet that was not true. He and Mouse were not related by blood at all. They had grown up in different lodges. So when the question arose in the minds of the parents, it had been discussed and the decision made. Antelope’s father had informed him that it had been decided. A courtship was permissible.
That had surprised the young man, because he was not ready. He was still enjoying the friendship. But yes, as he had begun to think about it, there was a great attraction. Little Mouse was turning into a strikingly beautiful woman. As the transformation continued, he found that he could not tolerate the thought of this beautiful girl in the arms of anyone else. He could see no man worthy of her. Since Mouse had not seemed interested in any of her various suitors, it had not become a problem. In fact, they had laughed together in secret over the bumbling attempts of some of the young men. This being the case, Antelope had not felt the need to push a courtship.
Maybe that was the problem, he pondered now, on this first day of the Sun Dance. Maybe she wished… But there was no use worrying about that now. The quarrel had been several days ago. He had not seen her since. Not to talk to, anyway. He had avoided Mouse because of the hurt, which he had no desire to experience again.
How strange it had been. He and Mouse were simply talking, making light conversation, when he noticed that nothing he said was accepted. A comment on the beautiful day was challenged by the curt remark, “It will probably rain!”
This was so completely unlike Gray Mouse that he was caught off guard. Then it had happened quickly. Maybe he should not have been so impatient.
“Mouse, what is it? What is the matter with you?” he had demanded.
As if that were a signal, the girl had seemed to fly into a rage.
“If you do not know,” she screamed at him, “I will surely not tell you!”
She whirled and marched away, anger showing in every motion, in the swing of her hips and the length of her stride. Antelope was crushed and bewildered. The incident had taken place in public, with many witnesses. Some of these people were laughing at him and he retreated quickly to be alone and try to remember what he had said or done.
Antelope could think of nothing. He must talk to someone, a man. His father was too busy with his responsibilities as a holy man, preparing for the Sun Dance. He sought out his uncle, Beaver Track.
“Uncle,” he began, “I would speak with you.”
“Of course, Antelope. What is it?”
“It is about Gray Mouse.” Quickly, he blurted out his story of the public quarrel … “And then she walked away!” he finished.
Beaver Track’s first reaction was a howl of laughter.
Antelope’s face burned with embarrassment, and he turned to go. “Forgive me, Uncle, for asking your help!” he shot back over his shoulder.
“No, no!” protested Beaver Track. “Wait. I had no cause to laugh. Let us talk of this.”
Antelope turned back, still ruffled.
“Now, let us consider,” Beaver Track said seriously. “You can think of nothing you said or did to anger her?”
“No, Uncle. I have tried to remember. It seemed that suddenly, I could not say anything that was to her liking. I said that the day was good, and she said no, that it would rain. Aiee, if I had called the grass green, I am made to think Mouse would have said it was red.”
Beaver nodded thoughtfully. “You know, of course, that it is often so with women.”
“That is true, Uncle. But I know Mouse well. This is something else.”
“Yes … Antelope, this is sometimes … aiee, how can I say this? When a woman is with child …”
“No! I would know of that, Uncle.”
“But … she has other young men who would court her, no?”
Antelope’s anger rose, and he started to retort, but Beaver Track raised a hand calmly.
“No, no, Antelope, you must know that I had to ask.”
The young man struggled for control. “That is true, Uncle,” he said evenly, “but again, I would know. Mouse has talked to me, told me of her suitors. I am made to believe there is no one.”
“That is good,” Beaver agreed. “And you are probably right. After all, your grandmother is very strict with her.”
“Could you talk to Grandmother?” Antelope asked.
“Yes, of course,” his uncle agreed. “She may know.”
But Running Deer did not know.
“No, I have seen no other young men,” she told Beaver. “I knew about the lovers’ quarrel, but those happen. She has been spending much time with your cousin, White Rose, talking of girl-things. No, I am made to think there is no problem. Give her time. After the Sun Dance, it will be as nothing.”
Beaver Track relayed this to his nephew, but Antelope was not convinced.
“Something is not right about this, Uncle. I will talk to Mouse myself.”
But it was easy to postpone such a conversation. He dreaded a repeat of the tirade, and the excitement and distraction of the pre-Sun Dance festivities continued. It was not until this, the first day of the actual ceremonies honoring the return of the sun and the grass, that Antelope determined to talk to Gray Mouse.
She was nowhere to be found.
“I have not seen her today,” his grandmother told him. “She stayed with our cousin last night.”
“Cousin? Which cousin?”
“Rose. White Rose, Northern band. Rose is to be married, you know, and Mouse was helping her sew …” But Dark Antelope was gone.
“Yes, she was at my mother’s lodge,” Rose told him. “We talked and sewed, and …”
“But where did she go this morning?”
“Today? I do not know, Antelope. I have not seen her.”
“Since this morning, you mean?”
“No, today. I did not see her today.”
“Wait! Mouse did not spend the night at your lodge?”
“No, no! When the light became too poor to sew, she went home.”
“I see …”In truth, he did not understand at all, but he was becoming quite concerned. He thanked his cousin and hurried to talk to Beaver Track.
But his uncle was otherwise occupied, dancing with his warrior society in the Sun Dance arbor. That might go on for a long time, and Antelope felt that he could not wait. He walked outside the camp, away from the noise of the drums and rattles and the chanting of the songs. What could be going on?
He thought about what little he really knew. Mouse had left the lodge of their grandmother a full day ago. She had been prepared to spend the night, so she would have been carrying her sleeping robe. Yet White Rose had not mentioned it. Jealousy and anger rose in him as the next question struck him squarely. With whom did she spend the night?
He was crushed, and his heart was very heavy. Mouse must have a secret lover. That was her privilege, of course, but why? Why secret? She was an eligible young woman. There were no taboos for her that would prevent a relationship with any man of the People. She was kin to none except by her adoption. That had been decreed. Even if her lover were already married, there was nothing to prevent a second wife, or a third.
Somehow, that did not seem to be an answer. Young women sometimes allowed themselves to be courted by an older man with an established lodge. But those were girls who were attracted by the wealth and position of their lover. They were also quite likely to flaunt the courtship, to make it as public as possible. That would not be the way of Gray Mouse. He knew her well, since childhood. Mouse would not be likely to engage in that sort of courtship anyway.
But why, then, the secrecy? There must be something that he was missing here. Was his head confused by his sorrow over Mouse’s secret lover? He tried to think who it might be, but came up empty. There was not one young man in whom she had shown any interest. No real interest, anyway. He must try to think, then, what else …?
His worst fear was that Mouse had met with some accident. Or could she have been stolen? There was always talk of such activity, though he could not remember such an incident. True, she was a very beautiful and desirable woman. But she had planned this, had she not? Her sleeping robe … but she had not arrived at the Northern band with that robe. What else did she take?
He sought out Running Deer.
“Grandmother, what; did Mouse take with her last night?”
“Afternoon. She went over there about this time. You are worried … what is it, Antelope?”
“I do not know, Grandmother. No one has seen her. She did not spend the night with Rose.”
“Aiee! My baby! Wait … she did not go to our cousin’s?”
“She did, but she left before dark. Grandmother, do you think she has a lover?”
“No, no, I am made to think not.”
“Then what else did she take? Food?”
“Let us look!”
The two rummaged around the lodge and behind the lodge lining.
“I can see no food missing,” Deer said. “She had a bundle … Ah! her new dress!”
“But why?”
Deer shrugged. “I had thought maybe she wanted to show it to Rose. The quill-work, you know.”
He nodded, but another idea struck him now.
“Could she have gone on a hunt or a vision quest?”
“Surely she would have told us. Let me see … weapons?”
Neither had thought of that, but a search brought a quick answer.
“Her bow and quiver, her little ax. Her knife, of course,” Running Deer stated. “What does this mean, Antelope?”
“I do not know, Grandmother. I will see if she took a horse. She would ride her bay, no?”
“Probably. Or my gray. But she has been using the bay.”
“She has? Since we came here to the Sun Dance?”
“Yes. Almost every day, Antelope. Since … well, since your quarrel. I thought you knew.”
“Grandmother, I will tell you if I find anything,” he said as he hurried away.
There were many bays in the horse herd. Far more than he remembered. The young herdsman was able to help, at least a little.
“Your sister’s gelding? She took it.”
“Took it? When?”
“Yesterday. No, maybe the day before. But either way, she did not bring it back. I suppose she traded it, no? A good horse, that one!”
“Then you have not seen her?”
“Ah, would I not remember seeing a woman like that?
Tell me, Antelope, is she spoken for?”
But Antelope was gone. He hurried back to the Sun Dance arbor. Yes, the Bowstring Society had relinquished the arena to the Bloods, and Beaver Track was nowhere to be seen. Antelope hurried to his lodge.
“Uncle, I must speak with you!”
The older man appeared exhausted from the rigors of the dance, but quickly came alert as his nephew blurted out his story. He glanced quickly at the sun.
“Aiee! We have not much light left. Come.”
Beaver rose quickly, picked up his bow, and led the way.
34
It was some time later that the first track was located, on a sand bar near the water. Beaver Track had quickly described the procedure he would use.
“No horses would be moving away from the camp, except hers,” he explained. “If we can find a track or two, maybe we can tell which way she went. Oh, yes … is her dog with her?”
“I do not know, Uncle.”
“We will find out. Now, first, we will look for tracks along the stream.”
“But there are many …”
“That is true. But look, Antelope, if you start to travel, and want no one to see you, you would stay in the timber, no?”
Of course, now that it had been pointed out, it was easy to see. At some point, Mouse would have led or ridden her horse through the thin strip of timber along the river and would leave tracks.
“There it is!” exclaimed Beaver Track, pointing. “Now, stay back a little. Let me look.”
He squatted, studying the depressions in the sandy surface. Finally, he rose.
“Yes,” he mused, half to himself. “It is her horse. See how he paddles a little on the left front foot? And she was leading him, here.” He pointed to a slender footprint. “She went that way.”
“Toward Medicine Rock?”
“Maybe so.”
“Then let us go there, Uncle.”
Beaver Track thought about it for only a moment. “You are right, Antelope. There is not enough time before dark to track her there, but if we hurry, we may find something there.”
The two men mounted and rode to the Rock, arriving just before dusk.
Child of the Dead Page 20
