A thick stew prepared by Charlotte Le Doux, Louis's mother, soon brought Mastincala back to life. The soldiers took little interest in the Lakota children, and so many of them escaped the privations of the captive camp. Post traders took some in. Others were soon accepted into other quarters. For the destruction of Little Thunder's camp did not pass unnoticed by the Lakota people. Soon an Oglala band appeared on the Platte. Among the warriors who rode to the fort was Hinhan Hota, the Gray Owl.
Mastincala's heart soared at the sight of the broad-shouldered Owl. The captive camp soon warmed with the knowledge that others thought dead were among those who had remained in the camp. Few smiled at the soldiers encamped beyond the fort buildings, though. Each sad-faced child seemed to remind its elders of the eighty-six slain.
Hinhan Hota and the others left their horses to drink at the banks of the Laramie River. They strode toward the fort with stern faces, carrying rifles, and clearly angry that so many remained encircled by the soldier camp. Mastincala wanted to rush to the men, tell of what he had seen and survived, but Louis's father, the trader Ren6 Le Doux, held the boy back.
"I will go," Le Doux announced. "Louis, you must stay here. There may be trouble, like when the soldiers marched on Conquering Bear's camp."
Louis quickly translated, and Mastincala drew back. The thought of another fight, and the loss of a second father, was more than a boy of seven could bear.
In the end, there was no fight. Colonel Harney warned the Oglalas and their brother Sicangus that the army would punish the Lakotas again should they lift their lances against soldiers.
"Ah, nothing good will come of this," Le Doux said afterward. "He treats warriors like children, and he insists on taking hostages to assure the peace."
Indeed, several young men offered themselves to the soldiers in return for the release of their relatives. It pained Mastincala to watch such fine young warriors shackled and led off to the iron-box lodge. It was said the soldiers would take the hostages far away and punish them hard for the bad deeds of their people. Even those whose blood had begun to cool had bad hearts for the wasicuns afterward.
For Mastincala, though, it was a good time. Hinhan Hota wasted no time inviting Tasiyagnunpa to his lodge. It was not unusual for a man to adopt his slain brother's family, or to wed a widowed wife. Hinhan Hota took little Wicatankala for his own, and Mastincala was soon as much a son as one born to the Owl's loins could have been.
The Oglala camp moved along as autumn approached, but Hinhan Hota kept his lodge near the fort. He, like Tacante, had been born to the Oglala band, but his new wife was Sicangu. Other Oglala warriors, some with wives and some without, chose also to adopt the fatherless among Little Thunder's camp. He Hopa, the medicine man, remained as well, and many looked to the wisdom of Four Horns for direction.
"A younger man must lead the people," He Hopa insisted. And so it came about that Hinhan Hota became chief of the band.
Mastincala swelled with pride when he learned his father was so honored. He also felt the heavy weight of responsibility that fell upon the shoulders of a chiefs son. Many eyes would follow his steps along the sacred path, and he worried he would never be tall or strong as the Owl.
"You will grow," Louis argued when the two boys spoke of it while fishing the Platte. "As I will. He Hopa says the wakan comes to us often as a trickster, and we must not let our power turn us to the bad faces, the angry ones."
Mastincala agreed. And as the moon rose and fell, he began finally to grow. No Lakota would mistake him for the giant spruce or pine, but few taunted him as the little Rabbit now. Capa was dead and the other boys stared at the scarred elbow and nodded knowingly. Mastincala, rabbit boy, had been the one to return to the burning camp. He had stood at his dead father's side. On Rabbit's face the wasicuns had read no fear.
Hinhan Hota was a quiet leader. From him came no stirring call to battle, no tall boasts. He led, and those who chose to follow did so. But his example as a hunter and bringer of ponies increased his following. The Owl raided the Crows on Powder River and swept the Pawnees south of the North Platte. And as the people journeyed across the prairie and into the hills on the sacred hoop journey foretold in the heavens overhead, he brought new hope and power to the Sicangus.
Mastincala learned many lessons from Hinhan Hota. The boy could soon recognize the fastest among a pony herd, and his strong legs and small stature made him the fleetest among his fellows. Only Hinkpila could match his pace, and the trader's son stayed mostly in die shadow of the fort.
Louis was also a teacher. Even as the Rabbit taught his friend new Lakota words, so Short Hair passed along English phrases to the young Sicangu. Louis had two brothers and a sister, and his father was glad to let the half-wild colt run with the Lakota, the people of Louis's grandmother. Hinhan Hota didn't mind. He recognized better than most the hole left in a man's heart who had no brother.
"Soon you will have a brother of your own blood," the Owl told Mastincala one night, pointing to Tasiyagnunpa's swelling belly.
The Rabbit stood as tall as a smallish boy could in his tenth summer and howled his joy. Then he turned to Louis.
"I have a brother already, Ate," Mastincala declared a moment later.
"Ah, Hinkpila, you are always welcome to my fire," Hinhan Hota spoke. "My lodge is your home. We have many Crow ponies and much wasna. We will call the people together and invite you into our family. Tomorrow we feast and make many presents. He Hopa will prepare the pipe. Mastincala will be your brother, and I will be your father. Hau, my sons!"
"Hau!" Mastincala echoed. Louis howled even louder.
The making of a relative was not undertaken lightly among the Lakota people. Even as the people gathered, old He Hopa, the medicine man, set about preparing for die ritual. First sweet grass was spread on four coals to entice good influences. Then tobacco was offered to the four directions, to Wakan Tanka, the all-knowing mystery, and to Mother Earth. He Hopa prayed to each in turn.
He Hopa brought forth Louis, the light-skinned boy, and spoke of the ancient rite of Hunkapi, the making of relatives. Once, long before, the Rees had come to the Lakota people in search of sacred corn taken by a Lakota holy man. The holy man, known as Bear Boy, was given the rite of peacemaking in a vision. Now the same ceremony brought a bonding of bands, of tribes, or even joined a boy to a family.
Before the time of trouble, He Hopa recounted, men without sons often took into their lodge a boy from a large or poor family. In such a way a promising youth was allied to a strong man while not losing his blood relations, either. Such an event was always marked with feasting and a giveaway.
After He Hopa conducted the rite, Mastincala proclaimed gifts of Crow ponies to three young men from poor families. The giving was in honor of his new brother, though the gifts went to those in greater need. The ponies being of great value, Louis Le Doux became in the eyes of the band a young man of worth.
All ate well that night, and the great stocks of wasna shrank considerably. As a result, Hinhan Hota chose to take the new brothers on a hunt. The boys could scarcely conceal their excitement, for going to the hunt with a chief was an honor at any time. For boys so young, it hinted of promise.
Mastincala had his doubts. He carried a light bow with which he had killed small game. Louis had often taken a turn at the bow, but the Owl ordered it left behind. Two frowns answered the command, and disappointment flooded the boys' faces.
"I hunt brother elk," Hinhan Hota explained. "Your arrows would never pierce his tough hide. For such an undertaking, a man must carry the warrior's bow."
Gray Owl then produced a wondrous bow of soft ash, carved with great affection for a treasured son by a loving father. The grip was wrapped in buffalo hide with strips of beadwork on each side.
"Wicatankala," the chief explained as he traced the beadwork. The pattern resembled a rabbit running. So that was what Gull had devoted her evenings to!
"Ate, it is a wonder," Mastincala declared. "But my arm is still short."
"For this bow it is a strong heart that's needed," Hinhan Hota answered. "String it, my son."
Rabbit bent the bow and drew the string taut. He then raised it triumphantly.
"And Hinkpila?" Mastincala asked.
"Ah, I had time to make the one bow only," Hinhan Hota explained. "Perhaps brothers can share?"
"Hau!" they cried together.
The three of them then gathered such belongings as might be needed and walked to the pony herd. The Owl selected three spry ponies and ordered the boys to place their bone saddles atop the animals. Hinhan Hota did likewise. He then tied his rifle behind him and led the way toward a distant hillside. The boys followed in silence.
By late afternoon Gray Owl had selected a likely spot, a clearing just above a small pond. He then secured his horse, assured himself the boys had done the same, and led the way through dense underbrush toward the edge of the clearing. Mastincala took note of how the wind stung his eyes. The Owl had brought them downwind so the elk wouldn't sniff their scent on the breeze.
"Now we must make prayers," Hinhan Hota explained. He invoked Wakan Tanka to reward their devotion with fresh meat, and he offered the customary tobacco. Afterward the three hunters spread out patiently on the edge of the meadow and waited.
Mastincala notched an arrow, but his fingers grew stiff and numb before he had occasion to draw back his bowstring. Louis had more patience. But Hinhan Hota seemed carved of stone. The chief watched with steady eyes as rabbits hurried by. Quail sang in a nearby thicket. Mastincala chewed a strip of buffalo hide and hoped the elk would come before his hair was white with age like He Hopa's.
"Each thing in its time," Hinhan Hota had so often reminded his son. Well, elk tracks marked the pond as a favorite drinking spot. They said nothing of when or how often!
Finally the elk appeared. There were five in all, and the Owl motioned toward a buck on the far right side. It was neither the eldest nor the youngest. Mastincala motioned that he understood. Then the boy drew back the string, held the bow steady, and took aim. He let fly the arrow, and it struck the elk in the throat. Hinhan Hota fired the instant the first elk collapsed.
"He's not dead," Louis observed, pointing to how the first animal struggled to breathe as blood dripped down its neck. Mastincala handed over the bow, and Louis fired a second arrow through the elk's stout heart. The animal died instantly.
The other elk had by now scattered, but two elk would provide what meat was needed. Hinhan Hota then suggested the hides would make fine winter coats, and Louis appeared especially pleased. An elk robe would mark him as a man to know among the wasicuns at the fort.
Skinning the animals and packing the meat occupied the hunters until early dusk. The boys rode back to camp on the same horse. The other dragged a travois behind it with the meat. Mastincala noticed his father's proud gaze, and when the three of them entered the camp together, they were met with shouts and brave heart calls.
"Hau, Mastincala! Rabbit has killed an elk!" the other boys exclaimed. "Hau, Hinkpila! Short Hair is blooded!"
Mastincala gazed down at his fellows from the top of his horse and grinned. For once he was the tall one. Perhaps it was a brave heart that mattered most after all. He hoped so, for he enjoyed the good feeling.
It was well that Hinhan Hota and the boys had killed the elk, for winter came early. In a fortnight, snows had packed the ground, and even the elk's tough hide couldn't fend off the bite of the frigid north wind. It was in this time of cold that Tasiyagnunpa went to the women's lodge to give birth.
The Owl saw to it an old woman came to tend the lodge, for Wablosa had been killed at Ash Hollow. She was called Yellow Cow, and Mastincala judged her skin as hard and wrinkled as an old moccasin. Her tongue was sharp as a killing lance, though, and she enjoyed flaying her male charges with rawhide thongs. Gray Owl had left to pray for an easy birth, so Rabbit and Louis left Wicatankala to the care of Yellow Cow and sought the lodge of He Hopa.
The medicine man welcomed the visit. Winter brought the old man pain, for his brittle fingers swelled, and his legs were bent by too many battle wounds. He had a pair of young women to cook and care for him, but he mostly grumbled at their slowness or complained they grew fat on his wasna.
"It's well you've come, Mastincala," He Hopa declared as he huddled with the youngsters around a fire. "There is death on the wind. Your mother hurries a child into the world?"
"Han," Rabbit answered. Yes. Of course, He Hopa knew she was in the women's lodge. Four Horns, after all, had been the one to urge prayers on Gray Owl.
"It's bad your brother chooses this time to be born," He Hopa said soberly. "Winter is a time for things to die. The leaves fall from the trees, and the prairie grasses grow yellow. Bear takes to his den. He is the only wise one."
Mastincala agreed, and Louis nodded.
"I've had brothers born before, but always their eyes closed too soon for me to whisper their names," Mastincala said sadly. "Ate says hard times are before us, for the wasicun has a bad face for the Lakota. We will need warriors. Hinhan Hota needs a son."
Louis nodded again, and He Hopa rose. He flung off the blanket he'd drawn tight against his shoulders, then began chanting. Each word he muttered with gritted teeth as the chill ate its way into his ancient, emaciated body. Then Mastincala looked on in disbelief as the medicine man stripped off his buckskins, leaving him naked save for a breech-clout. The boys eyed each other gravely. Then Mastincala discarded his elk robe and likewise stripped off his outer clothing. Louis did the same, and the three of them danced about the fire, shivering with cold and singing an ancient song.
"Hear me, Wakan Tanka," He Hopa began. "We are ashes to your fire, consumed in an instant. Grant us power that our song may make the little one strong. Give him a brave heart. Send sun to warm his bones and make the blood flow quick."
He Hopa then drew a knife and made twin cuts across his chest. Blood trickled from the wounds, and Mastincala stared in wonder at how the old medicine man cried even louder and danced with new vigor.
"Hear me, Wakan Tanka," the Rabbit called as he drew his own knife and held the blade against his chest. Cold steel touched the bare flesh, but Mastincala couldn't bring his fingers to press the blade.
"Have brave hearts," He Hopa urged.
Louis drew his knife then, and Mastincala took a deep breath. He wouldn't allow his new brother to make the sacrifice alone. The knife cut shallow red lines in the taut flesh, and Mastincala fought the need to cry out. Twinges of pain brought a spasm of energy to him, and he danced as a wild man. The feel of the warm blood running down his belly startled his senses. He gazed over at Louis and noticed how much brighter the blood seemed when dripping down the nutmeg-colored flesh of his companion.
"Ay, hah, hah," He Hopa chanted. "Wakan Tanka, hear our prayer."
And so, on they danced until exhaustion overcame them. Louis collapsed first. Then Mastincala dropped to his knees. He Hopa, who was white-haired the day both were born, continued on until a crier brought word a boy was born to Hinhan Hota.
"Dress yourselves, young ones," He Hopa told his freezing disciples. "You have a brother."
"Hau!" Mastincala bellowed. "A brother!"
Louis grinned his agreement as he hurried to pull a shirt over his bare ribs. The boys had little luck with their clothes, and finally He Hopa motioned for his women to help. The girls giggled and clucked like old hens as they warmed the youngsters. He Hopa then threw buffalo hides beside the fire and wrapped the boys like cocoons.
Mastincala awoke the next morning still enclosed in his hide. Louis was warming his stiff joints beside the fire. Outside the sun had broken through a heavy haze, and melting snow dripped from the heavy hides covering the tipi.
"I have a brother?" Mastincala asked.
"Eat this," He Hopa said, shoving a flat corn cake into the Rabbit's mouth. "There is tea there. Drink it. Your father waits."
Louis laughed to see Mastincala in such a hurry. Moments later the two boys stumbled out into the snowdrifts together. When they reached Hinhan Hota's lodge, the chief clasped them both by the shoulders.
"Welcome your brother," Gray Owl called, motioning toward the bundle of fur clasped in old Yellow Cow's arms. The boys stepped closer, and the old woman allowed them a single glimpse of the wrinkled brown face beneath.
"He's called Itunkala," their sister explained.
"A good name," Tasiyagnunpa announced. Still weak and weary, she lay in buffalo hides beside the fire.
A good name? Mastincala asked himself. It meant Mouse. If there was a name sure to grant its owner a steeper path than Rabbit, Mouse was certain to be it.
"He will need a brave heart and a strong arm," Mastincala declared.
"And a brother to show him the way," Hinhan Hota added.
"Such a brother he will have," Mastincala promised. Louis clasped his brother's wrist. A smile emerged on the paler boy's lips. Rabbit guiding Mouse? Yes, it was worth a laugh surely.
"I have a young brother already," Louis whispered. "The Lakota call him Istamaza."
"Istamaza?" Mastincala asked. Eyeglasses?
"He doesn't see well," Louis explained. "The soldier doctor made him some spectacles. It would be worse if his skin wasn't so light. His hair is fair, too, like yellow grass. He will be a better white man."
"You are Lakota now," Mastincala declared. "You will stay here with me. We will ride to the buffalo hunt and fight the Crows."
"No, my father will come soon, and I will return to the fort," Louis muttered. "I, too, have a hard road to walk, it seems."
"The road of the wasicun?" Mastincala asked. "That is a crazy trail!"
"So it must seem," Louis confessed with a grin. "I'll come back, though, and we'll hunt again."
"Yes," Mastincala agreed. "Many buffalo will fall to our arrows."