The tawny cock stood as still as a fence post. Miguel also froze, afraid the slightest movement would scare it off. The bird’s feathers mixed mottled shades of brown and black with streaks of white, providing camouflage.
A stealthy motion in the sand drew Miguel’s attention. Just in front of the bird, a thick-bodied rattlesnake slithered toward their shelter. Yellow scales tinged the diamond pattern along its back, and its tongue darted in and out, testing the air for the scent of prey. Miguel had always been told a rattler wouldn’t attack if you didn’t move. It was one piece of advice he had followed. The skin on his back prickled, and he wondered if he could remain as calm and still as Rushing Cloud.
The snake slid closer, its movements both contorted and graceful. Miguel silently prayed the snake would change direction. Just as it entered a bright patch of sunlight, the roadrunner flapped down. Its long, sharp beak was poised for attack.
The snake opened its jaws wide, baring its fangs. Its tail rattles vibrated an ominous warning, but the bird kept up its sniping. Aiming for a spot just behind the snake’s head, it landed a fearless peck. The snake coiled and sprang at the bird, which flapped out of range and then charged again. Attacking and retreating, the two adversaries seemed determined to fight to the death.
“Rattlesnakes cannot live long under the sun,” Rushing Cloud whispered. “It is a creature of night.” Miguel watched the battle with awe. The roadrunner toyed with the snake, luring it farther into the blazing sun, attacking just often enough to keep it from escaping under the rocks. The rattler became sluggish, either tiring from the fight or suffering from the rising heat.
The bird’s attacks grew bolder and more deadly, striking deep into the rattler’s flesh. When the snake failed to respond to one ferocious peck, the bird boldly caught the large reptile in its beak and dashed it against a rock. The snake struggled, but its wounds were too severe.
Miguel was riveted to the final moments of the duel. The bird made one last attack, tearing a deep wound at the back of the reptile’s head. The rattler gave a convulsive shake and lay still in the sun. As the roadrunner dove in to devour its kill, Rushing Cloud sprang from the shelter waving his arms up and down. The victorious bird cast its glassy orange-rimmed eyes on its prey and then looked with alarm at the intruder. It raced off across the sand, its tail straight and its beak thrust forward like the point of an arrow.
Rushing Cloud grabbed the limp snake by the tail and held it up like a trophy. It was longer than he was tall. A small smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Dinner,” he said.
Miguel stepped closer. “You’re going to eat it?” he asked.
“No,” Rushing Cloud said. “You are.”
Miguel knew that the ranch hands occasionally ate a rattlesnake they had killed. The thought of eating a poisonous reptile that moments before had been slithering toward him seemed only slightly less appetizing than eating Doc Meyer’s horse. At least he hadn’t been friends with the snake.
Miguel looked down at his feet. All around him, the sand was marked with curious X-shaped prints. He couldn’t guess what they were. Rushing Cloud noticed Miguel’s puzzled look.
“We call this snake-killer todai,” Rushing Cloud said. “Todai is both brave and clever.” He turned over various stones, testing their sharpness and tossing them aside. “With two toes pointed forward and two backward, who can follow his trail?” Miguel wouldn’t have known which way the bird had run if he had been tracking it. “It is never wise to let your enemies know which way you have gone,” Rushing Cloud added. Finally, he chose a long narrow stone with a rough edge and laid the dead snake in the shade.
Using his water gourd as a shovel, Rushing Cloud began digging a shallow, circular pit. Miguel helped scoop away the dirt as his companion loosened it. Then Rushing Cloud gathered several small rocks and used them to line the bottom of the hole. Next, he carefully arranged a pile of dried sticks topped with dry grass. Patiently, he struck a flint from his pocket against a rough stone until a spark flew onto the tinder and it began to smoke. Rushing Cloud leaned into the smoking brush and blew steady streams of air until flames flickered and grew.
Miguel scoured the area, gathering pieces of cactus wood and withered twigs. The fire burned until there was neither flame nor smoke, but simply shimmering air radiating from the hot stones. Now he understood how Rushing Cloud had cooked the rabbit last night. The rocks held the heat long after the wood had burned to ashes. Without smoke or flame, no one would notice their hiding place.
Rushing Cloud bent over the snake’s carcass and began to gut it. Miguel withdrew his pocketknife and opened the blade. He handed it to his companion, who tested it cautiously against his finger.
“Sharp,” he grunted approvingly. “Now it is our Snake Skinner.” Rushing Cloud sliced open the snake and removed the innards. With one strong cut, he chopped off the snake’s venomous head and then severed the rattles from its tail. He cut the carcass into small sections and dropped them into the pit. Dripping juices hissed against the hot stones.
The boys crouched in the shade, watching the meat cook. Rushing Cloud played with the rattles, shaking them until they clattered their familiar warning. He handed them to Miguel. “If ever you are hiding and fear you will be discovered, use these to scare your enemy away.”
Miguel tested the bony rattles until he could vibrate them easily. “You might need them—and you earned them,” he said, offering them back.
Rushing Cloud turned the pieces of meat with a stick. “I already know many tricks, and the rattles may give you some of the snake’s power.” Rushing Cloud spoke so often of gaining power from animals. Miguel didn’t understand, but he pushed the bony tail into his pocket.
Gingerly, Miguel tested his left arm. He still couldn’t move it without searing pain. If anything, it felt worse than it had the first day he had been injured. The sling kept it from pulling against his shoulder socket, but he worried that something was terribly wrong since it hadn’t begun to mend.
The gash on his foot was healing. It seemed Rushing Cloud had been right that the greatest injury had been the cut Miguel had made himself. He massaged the tender wound lightly. What he had done might seem foolish, but Miguel had been convinced that there was no choice. He couldn’t know for certain what had bitten him in the dark. It might have been a more poisonous scorpion whose venom would have killed him in a matter of hours if he hadn’t drained the poison before it spread.
Running away from home now seemed foolish, as well. Miguel was ashamed that just as he had slashed his foot without thinking of the consequences, he had run from the ranch without thinking of where he would go or what he would do. To think that he had been so heedless as to leave without even taking his hat!
Why didn’t I realize I could get lost, or think about how frightened Mamá and Papá would be? Miguel had been faced with a choice, and he had made a childish one.
The waxy flowers on the creosote bush glowed in the sun’s blazing light. Bees flitted from one blossom to another gathering pollen and making a droning buzz. As soon as they held their fill of pollen, they flew home. Miguel felt as if he had been away from his home for months instead of days.
“Why would the Apache take me so far?” he asked.
“They circle around, go high and then low. This makes it hard for anyone to find their camp—even you.”
“They argued over what to do with me, I think,” Miguel mused.
“Maybe some felt you would not become a strong warrior,” Rushing Cloud said.
“I know I wasn’t much of a prize,” Miguel agreed. “I could barely keep up with them on the trail. I think some of them wanted to kill me. The last night I was with the band, a warrior hit me from behind. That’s how my shoulder got hurt. I think he was going to finish me off, but an owl swooped across the path and they all ran.”
A shadow of fear darkened Rushing Cloud’s eyes. “An owl?” he repeated. “Owl is a messenger from the Spirit World, maybe the spirit of a dead person. Perhaps an ancestor came to help you. Owl warns them to beware.” He was quiet for a moment and then murmured almost to himself, “So that is how you got away.”
“I couldn’t believe they were afraid of a bird when they seemed so brave about other things. They never complained about being cold or hungry or thirsty. They weren’t afraid of being discovered by the cavalry. When they scattered, I ran too. I didn’t think they saw me, but the warrior who had attacked me sneaked up and hit me again. I fell over the edge of the trail.” Miguel’s memory became clearer. “He said something other warriors had said that night, and his voice was angry. I don’t remember the words exactly, but it sounded something like pin-da-lickee.” Miguel’s voice trailed off.
Rushing Cloud looked away. “Pinduh lickoyee,” he said in a soft voice. “White-eyed enemy.”