| |
After they’d gone into their tipi and Singing Trees left, Sly Elk and his father Three Deer were silent. Finally Sly Elk said, “You could approach Red Hawk even now, Father, and reclaim the right to wear your knife and go on raids. He would welcome your return. I will be a warrior very soon. We might even ride together.”
“It is not important. I was not concerned with Singing Trees hateful slurs, my son, nor the threat of his knife. He is a man of no substance. As such, he has no power over me.” He paused. “I learned one of my own greatest lessons from a white man, a trapper of rabbits in the north of Texas. He had a unique understanding of all men.
“In times of trouble, he said, most men focus on what makes them and their enemies different. And when you think on it, you will know as I did that he was right, they do. But this man said that was the wrong focus. He said to be victorious, we should focus on what makes us the same, for all men act in the same way when they are under strain.
“So I will tell you the lesson. Remember it always, Even as you grow and learn and leave other lessons behind, remember this always.” He paused, then said, “You are all-powerful. You can do anything you want to do, even win any battle. There are only three secrets to this power:
“The first is to know who you are. Who your enemy is and what he thinks of you doesn’t matter if you know who you are. In fact, what he thinks of you and your capabilities will often be his undoing. You saw that earlier, when Singing Trees assumed he could bully you because you are smaller. But you knew all along you could not be bullied.
“The second is to know your abilities and never overreach them. Overreaching leaves you off balance in both body and mind, and being unbalanced leaves you open to attack.
“And the third secret is to be aware that most men do not know their own abilities and limits, and therefore they will try to overreach them. Watch for that imbalance, and attack."
For a moment, Sly Elk only looked at his father. He’d had no idea the man was so wise. “I will not forget, Father. And I welcome the opportunity to ride with you. It will be my honor. With or without your knife at your waist, you have always been a warrior.”
Three Deer only smiled and nodded slightly. The boy understood far beyond his age.
“With your permission, I will attend the assignment Red Hawk gave me. I know who I am and I know who Singing Trees is. He is no match for me, nor do I believe he would even try his hand.”
“Go, my son, but return to me safely. Listen to the brush along the trail for any sounds that do not belong, and you will be fine. But I think you are right. He believes you will not come, and so you can go safely.”
“Yes sir.” Sly Elk slipped out of the tipi, quickly mounted his horse, and rode at a trot into the woods.
*
Scant minutes later, when he had gone past the place where he expected Falling Leaves to attempt to surprise him, there was only silence. Even the birds had stopped talking. Something had disturbed them, set them on edge. That, too, might be the imbalance his father spoke of. When the natural balance of normalcy was off-kilter, surely there was a reason.
But he sensed no danger. He urged his horse into a canter.
A few minutes later, there was a commotion up ahead. And an urgent voice, though too faint to hear the words clearly.
He leaned forward over his horse’s neck to avoid branches, whispered “Go!” and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. They plunged through the trees, an arrow fashioned of a horse and a warrior, both fearful of what had happened and unafraid of what might.
Then they flashed past a horse with a red circle around one eye, and the spotted rump of Falling Leaves’ appaloosa was right there and Falling Leaves himself was yelling, though Sly Elk only caught the words “wounded, my chief” and Sly Elk pulled hard on his horse’s mane and the thing slid to a stop, coating Falling Leaves and two other braves in dust. Two other braves, still mounted, and others behind them grinned as they watched the scene unfold.
Just as Falling Leaves whipped around, Four Crows said, “Who is this?”
When Sly Elk’s feet hit the ground, Falling Leaves grinned. “Ah, that is—”
Then Sly Elk was standing close, looking slightly up at Falling Leaves. His excitement was palpable. “Falling Leaves! I am glad to see you! What happened? Did Singing Trees do something stupid?”
Four Crows laughed and put one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This one will do fine.” Still grinning, he glanced back at Shadow Bear. “Who does he remind me of, Shadow Bear?”
Shadow Bear did not smile. A walking illustration of his name, he always projected a somber demeanor. “Probably he reminds you of a young war chief I once knew, my chief, one well-trained by my uncle Iron Bear and inhabited by his spirit. And one whom I would follow until there is no sun.”
Four Crows nodded, both grateful Shadow Bear had picked up on his half-joke but wishing he could also participate in it. He glanced at Falling Leaves. “And?”
Falling Leaves grinned as he gestured toward Sly Elk. “This, my chief, is Sly Elk, a new warrior in Red Hawk’s camp. He is also the other warrior Red Hawk assigned to greet you.” His grin disappeared. “Singing Trees was not assigned. He had no business here.”
Sly Elk said, “Singing Trees came to my tipi as I was about to leave. He said Red Hawk had assigned him in my place, and that if I asked Red Hawk to verify that, he would be angry with me for questioning his orders.”
Four Crows said, “That is how the deceitful work, young one. Through half-truths, outright lies, and innuendo. But you should never believe Red Hawk would be angry with you for an honest query. Had you gone to him, you would not be questioning his truthfulness but that of Singing Trees.”
“Yes sir, I know. I realized that, and that’s why I’m here now.” He looked at Four Crows, then Shadow Bear, then craned his neck toward the braves who were still mounted. Quietly, he said, “So where is the great Four Crows? I am anxious to meet him and pledge my knife to his service.”
Four Crows and Falling Leaves laughed. Even Shadow Bear smiled and shook his head slightly. Four Crows said, “I should think he would be glad to have that pledge when you’ve gained another year or two training and experience, young warrior.”
“Thank you.” Sly Elk looked around. “Could I meet him or should I wait until tomorrow?”
Finally, Falling Leaves said, “Sly Elk?” then touched him on the shoulder.
Sly Elk looked back.
Falling Leaves gestured. “This is Four Crows.”
Four Crows said, “And I would be pleased indeed to ride with you, Sly Elk, in—”
Sly Elks almost bowed, but he remembered and held his ground. “Yes sir. In a year or two. Thank you. I will work hard, practice much, and learn my lessons well. I will earn my place in your column. Perhaps my father will ride with us too.”
Four Crows laughed again and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Well said. And yes, perhaps he will. Your father is...?”
“Three Deer, sir.”
Four Crows looked at Falling Leaves. “One of our greatest and most honorable warriors.” He looked down at Sly Elk again. “Yes, your father is welcome in my column at any time.” He looked at Falling Leaves. “Now, the two of you will bring us to the camp, my friend. And thank you, both, for the greeting.”