| |
The day after he held the council to tell his warriors of Four Crows’ impending arrival, Red Hawk sent Spotted Dove, his messenger, to bring two men to his tipi: a young but promising brave named Sly Elk and Four Crow’s own warrior, Falling Leaves.
On their way to the tipi, the messenger in front and Falling Leaves and Sly Elk following behind, they encountered Singing Trees. As they passed, he turned to look at them.
He wasn’t sure who the boy in front was, but the other two, wow, if there was ever an odd pair.... He grinned. But their seeming focus also aroused his curiosity. Where were they off to in such a hurry?
He turned and casually followed them. When the unlikely trio arrived at Red Hawk’s tipi and ducked inside through the flap, Singing Trees frowned and crossed his arms. What’s going on?
But a moment later, the boy who had led the other two to the tipi ducked out again and went about other business.
Singing Trees watched him go for a moment, the circled around to crouch behind the tipi, closer to where he knew Red Hawk would be seated.
*
After Red Hawk dismissed the messenger, he looked up at the two braves. “Are you curious as to why I summoned you?”
Falling Leaves seemed relaxed, and he answered calmly but respectfully. “I welcome any chance to serve the great Red Hawk.”
Sly Elk, who had recently turned 13 years of age, was much less sure of himself. As Falling Leaves responded to the chief, Sly Elk gaped. Afterward, for what seemed to him like half a day, he was unable to speak. Various responses raced through his mind, but none seemed quite right, not to mention stumble-proof. Finally he said, “Yes sir, me too.”
At the young brave’s response, Red Hawk’s eyes glistened with mirth. “Thank you.” He glanced at Falling Leaves, who’s eyes were also smiling. “Both of you.”
He looked at them for another moment, then with a gesture, invited them to sit.
Both sat cross-legged before him.
When they were settled, Red Hawk said, “As you know, sometime today, the great Four Crows will visit this camp.”
Sly Elk’s eyes grew wide and he gasped quietly, then seemingly involuntarily looked at Falling Leaves.
As Sly Elk’s mouth opened, Falling Leaves quickly raised one hand and shook his head.
The boy fell silent.
Red Hawk looked at him. “Of course, you were not involved in the council yesterday. Hence your surprise. But he is coming, and it will be a great day for this camp.”
Still feeling Falling Leaves’ admonition to remain quiet, Sly Elk only nodded.
Red Hawk smiled broadly, then regained his stoic disposition. “Much was said during that council about Four Crows having been defeated recently. But I say to you that Four Crows is greater in defeat than most Comanche warriors will ever be even in victory.”
Filled with pride for his friend, Falling Leaves nodded all but imperceptibly. It would be disrespectful to interrupt the old chief, even to agree with him.
Sly Elk, his young eyes still wide, dared neither move nor speak. He didn’t want to interrupt this council, his first. Surely it was a dream.
Red Hawk looked at Falling Leaves, then Sly Elk, then back to Falling Leaves. “For my own reasons, I have selected the two of you to stand watch.” He raised one hand. “Not as guards, but as welcoming escorts, a sign of respect. I would go myself, but—” He caught himself. Rather than starting to name off a list of ailments, he shook his head. “I can’t go myself.”
He gestured vaguely with his right hand. “So on my behalf, ride west into the woods. Go along the north bank of the Canadian. That is Four Crows’ most likely path. Go about a half-mile out if you can count it. Then wait, one of you on either side of the trail.”
Falling Leaves gestured with his right hand, a respectful way of interjecting. When Red Hawk looked at him, he said, “I can count it, Grandfather. I will show the young one the way.”
Red Hawk nodded, then eyed them both again. “Do not jump out at him or attempt any kind of surprise. When he approaches, come onto the trail with a hand raised so he can see you have no weapon. Tell him openly that I have sent you. Then ride one on either side of him to escort him into the village.”
Sly Elk surprised both Falling Leaves and Red Hawk. He quickly stood and bowed at the waist. “Thank you for this honor, Grandfather.”
A grin tugged at the corner of Falling Leaves’ mouth as he uncrossed his ankles and pushed himself upright. Quietly so as not to embarrass the boy, he said, “That is not the way, young one.”
Sly Elk jerked his head around to look at Falling Leaves, his eyes wide, then looked at Red Hawk. “I am sorry, Grandfather. I only meant to—”
But Red Hawk raised one hand, palm down, to stop him. “No, my son. Never apologize. Never be sorry. If you didn’t know, you have nothing to apologize for. And if you did know, then your apology is empty. But it is all right. You have time. You will learn.” Then he shifted his gaze to Falling Leaves. “Go. Watch. Escort the young war chief safely into my camp.” He raised his right hand slightly and brushed two fingers toward the flap of his tipi.
The two braves departed. Outside, Falling Leaves looked at Sly Elk. “The grandfather knows you respect him, but you are becoming a warrior now. Do not show weakness, even to him, by bowing or other supplications. Show only respect.”
“Yes sir. Thank you. I have time. I will learn.” The serious look on his face might have been etched in stone.
Falling Leaves laughed, then gestured. “Go now. Tell your father your assignment and ready yourself. You know the way. Ride out the trail for what you think is a half-mile. But I will watch for you and show you where to stop. Then on the way back you can measure the half-mile in whatever way you prefer.”
Sly Elk grinned. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.” He turned, and he left so quickly he almost disappeared.
Falling Leaves chuckled quietly. He remembered a time when he and even Four Crows had been as eager. He went to get his mount. If he didn’t hurry, the boy might beat him to the path.
A few minutes later, he walked his horse out of the camp and started along the main path through the woods on the north bank of the Canadian. The day was pleasant, neither too warm nor too cold, and the earth was happy. On either side of the trail, jaybird and sparrows flitted among branches and occasionally spat insults at each other.
Red Hawk seemed to expect Four Crows soon, but Falling Trees had ridden with him. At present, the sun was only a quarter of the way through the sky. By his reckoning it would be several hours before the war chief arrived. Probably not until the sun was nearing the western horizon, and maybe later than that.
He was coming from Amarillo, so he would use the arroyos. He always negotiated those slowly. If the Rangers had followed him east, chances are he would double back—at least two times, maybe four—to lose them, and that would add long hours to his journey.
But the extra time was a bonus. To spend some of it, he would play a game with Sly Elk. He would take up a position on the south side of the trail and watch for the boy. Then he would jump out in an effort to surprise him. He grinned and shook his head.