Chapter Ten

It was early evening, that time of day when the sun has set yet the west is still awash in the shimmering golds and pinks of dusk. Straight overhead, however, the sky was the deepest blue. In the east a lone star rose over the horizon, while the high-pitched singsong of the crickets and locusts grew loud, replacing the more melodious chirping of the lark sparrow, the longspur and robin. A lone dove cooed in the distance.

Grey Coyote was en route to the coulee where he had hobbled the ponies. Moisture hung heavily in the air as he trod over known ground. The fragrant scents of dry grass and wildflowers had settled densely over the land, perfuming the landscape with an aroma that was sweet but weighty.

It happened suddenly. One moment the western sky was alight with end-of-the-day images, the next it was pitch-black, thick with moisture-laden storm clouds dominating the landscape. Overhead, the thunder roared.

Though it was not uncommon for bad weather to suddenly come upon the unwary prairie traveler, Grey Coyote knew this was no ordinary storm. For five days Grey Coyote had experienced a reprieve of sorts from those things that haunted him; for five days he had heard nothing from the Thunderer.

It appeared his breathing space was fleeting. Indeed, his archenemy was back.

All at once, a windstorm kicked up around him, and like a blast from a white man’s gun, a fast-whirling prairie wind knocked Grey Coyote off his feet. No rifle was fired, yet Grey Coyote ached as though he had been shot, and many times.

Flat on his back, unable for the moment to rise, Grey Coyote had no option but to look up into the sky.

There, images had formed above him…two images. One was familiar—the man from his vision, the man with unkempt, unclean and straggly hair. The other likeness was that of a white trapper.

The trapper lay dead. But the beast—his appearance ugly and more bearlike than human—hovered over his victim like some wild monster, glad of its conquest.

And then came the familiar refrain:

 

“Neither small nor large, nor wide, nor narrow, the white man possesses a thing that will propel you toward freedom. Though he will think it is possessed by him and though you must possess it, and it will possess you, only when you are free from it, yet act as it, will your people be released from the mist.

“You alone must solve this, you alone must act on it, and if you do, your people go free.”

 

What did this mean? Why was he, Grey Coyote, being given a vision now, when he had not sought one?

And then the answer came to him: The white man was near. Grey Coyote’s moment, his chance to end the curse, was close at hand.

But was that all? Was it not also a warning from the Creator? An alarm raised to show Grey Coyote that he must be prepared? That the one he sought was capable of inhuman acts?

Hau. Grey Coyote feared it was so.

The images faded, allowing Grey Coyote to rise onto his feet. For an instant, he stood stock-still, his face upturned to the heavens. Lifting his arms, he began to sing.

 

“Haiye, haiye, hai-ha.

Haiye, haiye, hai-ha.”

 

It was a song of thanksgiving, a song sent to the Creator in acknowledgment. It was also a promise to the Creator—and to himself.

He would be prepared.

 

 

Grey Coyote had done what he must. Nevertheless, his heart was heavy as he dragged his feet all the way back to camp, his spirits burdened beyond comfort, for he dreaded the confrontation with his wife, a thing which would be forthcoming, no doubt. But there was nothing for it. He’d had to do it.

He had let the ponies go. He’d had no choice.

After the warning from the Creator, Grey Coyote grasped that he must proceed with caution. Where this white man was, he did not know; where this white man might stage an attack, he did not know.

But one thing was clear, it was time to leave, to travel again over the prairie…safely.

Ponies, unfortunately, were a signal to war parties, as well as to the white hunters and mountain men; therefore, ponies to a lone rider were dangerous. If Grey Coyote were to ensure that he and Little Sunset traversed this next part of their journey without incident—surprising the enemy instead of being surprised—then they must cross this land not as travelers, but as scouts.

Nevertheless, Little Sunset was not going to be happy, and it would be his responsibility to bring her to understanding, if he could. But her viewpoint, he feared, would be very different from his own, and he groped for the words to bridge the gap between their realities.

Alas, if only he could confide the deepest secrets of his soul, his task might be easier. But he could not; he alone must solve the riddle. So much was this true, he feared that to share his plight with another could cause the forfeiture of his entire life’s work.

So, with these somber thoughts deeply in his mind, he stepped into camp. Little Sunset, unaware of what plagued him, welcomed him heartily. Throwing back their shelter’s entrance flap, she crawled out from it and happily pushed herself to her feet. Running toward him and smiling, she flung herself into his arms, grinning. “You were gone so long. I worried.”

He smiled back at her. “Haye-haye, this is a good greeting. Perhaps I should be gone for a long time each and every day.”

“Maybe.” She looked around him, toward his back, then at each side of him. “Where are the ponies?”

He didn’t answer.

She seemed not to notice, however, and went on to say, “I have prepared all of our things for the horses to carry, our robes, everything, and we have much pemmican ready.”

Grey Coyote hesitated once more, his silence long and drawn out. At last, knowing he had to respond in some fashion, he came right to the point. “The ponies are gone.”

“Gone?”

“Hau.”

“Did someone steal them?”

“Hiya.”

“No? Then did they come loose from their hobbles and wander away?”

“Hiya.”

She looked puzzled. “What happened?”

He breathed deeply. “I let them go.”

She drew away from him slightly. “You what?”

Grey Coyote didn’t elaborate all at once. But knowing he must again say something, he stated, “We are entering enemy country,” as though this explained everything.

“Yes?”

He jerked his head to the left. “When one is in enemy territory, and alone, one must be careful. If we bring the horses, we cannot predict we will be able to safely cross the prairie.”

“Oh. But…” She paused, and her voice was colored with confusion. Tentatively, she stepped out of his arms. She was frowning. “But I thought you went to collect them.”

“It had been my intention to do so, but I fear I underestimated the danger on the prairie at this time of year. And so I have changed my mind. Circumstances now demand we travel in a way so that we will be as invisible as possible.”

“But the ponies were our only means of transportation, weren’t they?”

“We have other means.”

“We do?”

“Hau.” He pointed toward her feet. “You stand on them.”

He watched as enlightenment dawned, and he waited for her answer, although he knew her reply would not bode him well. At length, all she asked was, “We’re going to walk?”

“Walk, crawl…and creep a little too.”

Her eyes wide and with her mouth slightly open, she gaped at him.

He went on to explain, “We will have to travel as scouts, since there is no one but myself to defend us.”

“Scouts?”

He nodded. “Wolves of the plains. It is possible to roam the prairie unharmed when one is alone. But not on horseback, and not during the day. We will travel at night only, resting during the day. We will disguise ourselves, and we will arrive unscathed at our destination. I will show you how this is done.”

She continued to gape at him. “But others travel on horseback…”

“They are safe to do so, only as long as they go in large numbers and have the means and manpower to protect themselves. I, however, as you might remember, have few arrows left. Thus, we must be extremely diligent.”

“But…but…I thought… Who will carry all of our things?”

He groaned a little, giving himself a moment in which to think. This next was probably what he most dreaded relating to her. After all, had he not observed that she was unfamiliar with the wilds, as well as being unacquainted with necessary precautions? Nevertheless, with jaw clenched, he plunged ahead. “We will carry our things, or maybe I should say you will, for I will need to remain free of encumbrances in case we meet an enemy.”

The silence that met this statement was telling. When she spoke, all she asked was, “I? I will carry them?”

“Our load is not heavy.”

She tilted her head. “I beg your pardon. Your robe is very heavy.”

He nodded. “Yes, you are right. We will have to cache my robe before we go, along with anything else you cannot bring with you. We will cache my lance as well, for as a scout, I will not be able to bring it with me.”

“But that would mean you would be even less able to defend us, and you will be cold at night. Besides, we have done all this preparation. Maybe you have not noticed, but I am not very strong.”

“I have observed this,” he said. “However, the food is not heavy.”

“But extra moccasins, extra clothes for me, plus an extra robe for me? Do you forget we went to the trouble to make it?”

“I will carry your robe.”

“Can you? I thought you said you had to remain unencumbered in case we meet an enemy.”

“That does not suggest I will not tote a parfleche bag over my shoulder. In the bag we may place your robe.”

She inhaled deeply and hesitated, her brow furrowed as though she were thoroughly absorbed in thought. She screwed up her face and stared him straight in the eye. “Are you still planning a trip into a forest to obtain wood for arrows?”

“I am.”

“Might I ask how far it is to this forest?”

He shrugged. “It is perhaps a half moon away, maybe less.”

“A half moon?”

“Hau.”

He waited for her to say more, but when she did not, he reached out a hand to her. “Scouting only sounds difficult to you because you are not familiar with it. Once I describe what we do, and you have done it, you might like it.”

She shrugged his hand away. It appeared she did not favor hearing anything he had to say. At least not right now. She turned her face away from him.

He rocked back on his feet and brought his arms to his sides. “I understand you’re upset, but this is the way in which we must travel. Something has happened that makes me believe I must be more cautious than usual. I bear a lifelong enemy who I have reason to think is close by. I must not be surprised by him. Besides, it is summer, a time of war parties, revenge and a warrior’s thoughts of love. If we are attacked, I will defend us, but if we are ambushed, I will probably be killed and you taken captive, or perhaps, depending on the situation, you too might be killed.”

She listened, bobbing her head as though in agreement, but she was silent for so long, Grey Coyote began to wonder if she had heard him. At length, she commented, “I see your problem.”

Grey Coyote, sensing she at last understood what was at stake, said, “Ito, come, let us gather our things. I will cache my robe, my lance and anything else we cannot carry.”

She pulled away from him. “How far is it from the forest to the trading post?”

“Less than a half moon. Perhaps three, maybe four days.”

“That is all?”

“Hau.”

“Very well. Let me ask you this also: If we were to head straight to the trading post from here, how long would it take us to arrive there?”

“From here?”

“Yes.”

“But I cannot go there first,” he said. “The trading post is also within enemy territory, and if I am to ensure our safety, I must make more arrows before we go there. That post is not considered a secure place.”

“I do understand, but please indulge me. How long would it take?”

“We would travel eight, nine, perhaps ten days.”

“I see.” She took a step back away from him. “Much less than if we journey to the forest first.”

“That is true, but—”

“Well, that’s that then, isn’t it?”

Grey Coyote relaxed too soon, for she continued, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I have only just realized we must be extra cautious. Plus I did not want to upset you.”

“But you knew I would be upset.”

“I did.”

“I think… I don’t know what to say. I’m surprised. Badly surprised.”

“I understand. It is possible you look on this as a hardship, for it would appear to me that the white woman is not used to walking. But you will soon become accustomed to it.”

“Will I?” she asked. “And white women do walk, but not hundreds of miles…and carrying things as well.”

Having no response to make to this, he remained silent.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, if we don’t go by horseback, we don’t go at all. Perhaps we should stay here for the rest of our lives.”

He decided to ignore her comment. Instead, he gazed at her carefully. “That would be good to stay here forever…if we both did not have a duty to perform. You know we must go.”

She exhaled on a sigh. “Yes, yes, I do know that. My duty…and yours. And you’re right. We cannot really stay here. It was just…” She shrugged.

He nodded. “A dream?”

She turned her face aside but said nothing.

“Ito, come, it is good, for you have grasped what is at stake. I understand, too, that you have been—”

“Do you? Do you understand me, really?”

Eyeing her cautiously, he turned reticent.

“Fourteen years ago,” she continued, “I was sent away from home and put in the service of another. Fourteen years ago, my life changed. I no longer had a home to call my own. My parents were dead. But recently I have discovered I should never have been sent away. It was all a mistake.”

His brow narrowed, but he remained silent.

“Don’t you see?” she asked. “For the first time in years, I have an opportunity to set the past straight. Something which has always been mine is awaiting me. I have only to reach out and take it. But the chance to do so is fleeting. I must act quickly, and I must act now.”

He stirred uneasily.

“So, Mr. Coyote, if you truly understand what is happening with me, and you mean what you say with all your heart, then you will know why I must now insist that, Mother Nature aside, you must use the wood which is here for your arrows. As far as I am concerned, your need has become very great indeed.”

Grey Coyote didn’t respond. Never did the gap between them seem wider.

In his own mind, he tried to understand why she was upset. Although he had explained it to her earlier, he realized she did not share his viewpoints about life, or about the earth and the care which a man must show Nature. For if his wife did comprehend this fully, she would know what she asked of him was a sacrilege.

Little Sunset continued to speak. “To my way of thinking, you have two choices. The first being this: Use the material here to make your arrows and then take me to the trading post; the second would be to leave the wood here for Nature to use, but bring back the horses so we can journey to your woods in a timely manner.”

He swallowed hard, knowing what he must say. “I can do neither.”

She spun away from him, presenting him with the loveliest of profiles, which he did admire, but…

“Of course,” she pressed on, “there’s always the third possibility.”

“A third? And that is?”

Crossing both arms over her chest, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Get the horses back and then take me once again to the Minnetaree village. It must be only a short distance from here, isn’t it? Perhaps Mr. LaCroix is still there, and if he is, maybe I could convince him to proceed as we had originally planned. That way I will only have lost a few days—wonderful days,” she added, “but only a few.”

Grey Coyote shook his head. Again she did not understand. He could not go back; he could only go forward. “If there is one thing of which I am certain, it is that Scout LaCroix will be gone.”

“Gone?” She turned to face him. “But we’ve only been here a short while. What if he were delayed? What if he arranged to play another game in the hopes of earning back what he’d lost?”

“Because his presence was not welcome there in the village. He has, in trade, cheated those people. It was my host, alone, who would bear his company, and my host, once he saw that Scout LaCroix was cheating at the game of Cos-soo, was not happy. No, Scout LaCroix will be gone.”

“Then I could hire someone else.”

“You might be able to accomplish it,” said Grey Coyote. “But there is a problem.”

“Oh? And that is?”

“I cannot take you there.”

She grimaced up at him. “But it would only put you out of your way by a few days, wouldn’t it?”

He shook his head slightly. “I cannot go back.”

“Of course you could.”

“Hiya,” he said. “I, too, must act quickly. I, too, have little time left. And there is reason for me to believe the means to the end of my duty is near. Therefore, I must move ahead.”

“Oh, I see.” She frowned, sighed, and said, as though to herself, “Then there’s only one thing left to do. I don’t like it, I might perish in the undertaking, but…” She took another deep breath then glanced up at him. “I must go. If not with you”—she spoke softly—“then on my own.”

He stared at her hard. “You are right. You might perish if you do this.”

Her response was odd, for she smiled at him, although her look held little happiness. “But, Mr. Coyote, the decision is up to me to make.”

“That is true…”

“Good.”

“Usually. But because you are my wife, I cannot let you do this. I am responsible for you.”

“No,” she said. “No, you are not.” When he was about to say more, she held up her hand. “I know that in these past few days, we have considered ourselves married. You have thought it, as I have too. And I have enjoyed it, very much.”

“I too.” He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek.

She gazed away from him, ending the contact. Straightening her shoulders, she continued, “We have always known, no matter how much we didn’t wish to think of it, that there would come a time when we would have to part, for we have been well aware of our duties, and we have known we each one follow a different path in life.”

“Hau, what you say is true.” He stretched out his hand to let his fingers trace the slim outline of her neck.

This time she let his touch remain, though she drew in a shaky breath. “And, we have also known our time together might be short.” She glanced up into his eyes, her look uncertain but also determined. “Mr. Coyote, what I’m saying is I think the time has come for us to part.”

“Hau, I know this is the direction of your thoughts.”

“Yes. Just as I cannot force you to do something which is not in your nature, you cannot force me to do something against mine, either. If I miss the opportunity presented to me, it will never be available to me again. And I’m not sure I could live with myself, knowing I failed.”

He nodded slowly. “I understand this very well.”

“Good, then if you do, you will agree I must return to the Minnetaree village at all possible speed, for I believe I might still be able to hire a guide there.”

“Hau.” He dropped his hand. “I do understand. But come, let us talk of this some more before you do something you might regret. You are upset, and our wise men caution us to never make a decision when the mind is troubled.”

“I disagree. It is a fine time to make a decision.”

“But you do not know this land,” he countered. “Nor are you aware of the safe ways to cross it. Stay with me, and once I have completed my task, I will take you to this village of St. Louis. Perhaps it will not be as quickly as you would like. But I will see you there.”

She nodded. “And how long will that take? How many months—or moons—would be required to get me there?”

“I do not know.”

“And that is the problem,” she said, her gaze at him serious. “I thank you kindly for your offer, but I feel I must decline. I think, if I return to the Minnetaree village now, I have the chance to arrive in St. Louis within the month, because we would travel by boat. From there I would be able to hire a ship returning to England and be home in the shortest time possible. This is important to me.”

He simply looked at her.

She added, “It is very important to me.”

For the first time, it became real to Grey Coyote that this, indeed, might be their last time together. If he could not convince her to go with him—and it appeared he might not be able to—they would have to part here tonight.

She continued to speak, “In truth, we are not far from the Minnetaree village, are we? It is possible I could make it back there on my own, is it not? Particularly if I travel by night? You could show me how.”

Grey Coyote considered his choices while he hesitated, then said, “It is possible, but—”

“Then you must see that you have no other choice but to let me go. Honestly, in my mind, you are under no responsibility to me. In a way, I was forced on you. And you have been a gentleman about it. But the time has come for you to let me go.”

Grey Coyote tilted his head, staring at her intently.

“Please, Mr. Coyote. I am pleading. We traveled here safely enough, and out in the open. I have been in this country long enough now that I think I can return there without a problem.”

He frowned. “It is possible…”

She swallowed hard and touched him.

It was true that his buckskin shirt stood between his bare skin and her fingers, but it didn’t matter. Her mere touch brought him excitement. She said, “Let me take some of this food that we’ve prepared, and… It’s only a few days’ journey, isn’t it?”

He took hold of her hand, bending down to touch his lips to each finger. “Perhaps three.”

She sucked in her breath, but if her response was because of his kisses or due to what he said, he might never know. The look in her eyes, however, softened. “Only three?” She stared straight up at him. “If that is so, then I truly think I can do this.”

He grimaced, squeezing her hand. “I do not like it.”

“I know. But you will let me go, won’t you? You are aware that I have to do this. I have to try.”

At length, he finally conceded her point. “Hokake, you may go, but only once I have shown you how to travel at night.”

She let out her breath. “I will learn. I will learn quickly. Thank you.”

He nodded. “It is decided, then. I will whistle for my pony, for he has probably not gone far, and we will load him with provisions for you. Then I will show you what to do when you travel. But you must give me your complete attention.”

“I will.” She smiled and chuckled, though the sound of it did border on a sob. “Thank you again, Grey Coyote. You won’t regret it. After all, you’ll be free of me, free to go your own way, without having to worry about me.”

He inclined his head, but only slightly, and he wondered if his eyes mirrored the sadness he felt. After a moment, he said, “Hau, I will be free…”

Grey Coyote stared at her, committing her features to mind.

However, there was little more he could do to keep her with him, for she didn’t really belong to him. Thus, dropping her hand, he stepped away from her. “Ito, come, Little Sunset, let us prepare you for this journey.”

“Little Sunset?” Her look at him was intense and a bit somber. Breaking eye contact, she asked, “It is my Indian name?”

“Hau. You have an Indian name now. It will be with you always.”

“Thank you. I will treasure the name always.” After a short pause, she gazed back at him. “I have another name, as well. An English name. I think you should know it.”

“Hau, yes. I agree.”

“Funny,” she said.

“Funny?”

“Yes, it’s odd that I haven’t seen fit to tell you my real name. We have been so close, one would think I would have said something about it before now. It’s…strange.”

He inclined his head.

“Marietta. My English name is Marietta.”

He frowned. Marietta? He had heard that name before. But where? When?

All at once, he felt odd, as though he were not a part of his body. A peculiar feeling swept over him. That name was connected with his tribe somehow, with him, with his mission…

“Do you not like my name?”

Grey Coyote’s throat constricted, and he chose not to answer, calling back to mind the exact memory. It had been in the Minnetaree village, and he…

He could barely believe it. He had been with this woman for days, and he hadn’t known who she truly was. He hadn’t put the pieces together.

But he recalled every single part of that puzzle now. It had been evening, he had been preparing to leave, and the wind had whispered to him. It had spoken to him, had called out this name. He had ignored the message at the time, and apparently, he had done so at his own risk.

The woman, it had said. The woman, Marietta. She is the means.

He was a fool not to have realized it sooner. This woman had something to do with him, with his people, with the riddle, with their freedom.

And he had almost let her go.

“Please don’t scowl at me like that.” Marietta leaned in toward him. “It’s a pretty name. Of course my full name is Maria Marietta Welsford. Can you not say it? At least once?”

“Marietta,” he repeated softly. “Marietta.”

He stared at her hard, very hard, because she was about to become very upset with him. And he was going to have to proof himself against her wrath.

He only hoped that when it was all over, she would forgive him.