Heads Off called a council at the end of the first day’s travel. It could be seen by all that the band was seriously under fighting strength, and it was necessary to recognize the fact and plan for it.
There was one encouraging note as the Elk-dogs made camp that evening. One more family, traveling late, joined them just before dark. Heads Off recognized one of the young warriors of the Red Rocks band, who had helped on a foray against the Head Splitters. How long ago, it now seemed. The People had set out to obtain horses, and Heads Off, still an outsider, had helped to organize the raid.
“May we join you? We wish to see new country.”
The chief nodded in welcome, and the newcomers hastened to establish camp before dark.
Heads Off was grateful. It was obvious that this young warrior understood the plight of the Elk-dog band. Every warrior they could muster might be needed in the coming moons. Even one spear, one bowman, might make the critical difference to survival.
This, of course, was to be the theme of the evening’s council. Appearance would be all-important as they traveled. It must not be easy for any casual observer to see that the band was reduced in number.
With this in mind, Heads Off outlined the basic plan he and Coyote had discussed during travel. They must appear to have as many lodges as possible. Each family unit would loan a lodge pole
or two. The extra poles would be tied in bundles of ten or twelve, and dragged by a spare horse.
Thus, an observer from a distant hilltop might count the number of horses drawing lodge poles. There would appear to be several more lodges, perhaps four more, than actually existed. Allowing two warriors per lodge, that would cause an enemy to overestimate the strength of the band by eight or more warriors.
Additionally, as the council discussed the matter, another idea or two emerged. An old warrior of the Bowstring Society spoke.
“If we spread out instead of follow single file as we travel, it will leave a bigger trail.”
There were nods and murmurs of agreement. A broad multiple track made by many poles would imply many lodges, to anyone coming upon the trail.
A woman suggested that the usual manner of packing might be altered. Each family could distribute the customary assortment of baggage among as many animals as possible. Again, an observer would see many laden packhorses, and assume a strong, affluent, and presumably, well-armed band.
People began to be drawn into the enthusiasm of the thing, and suggestions rippled around the circle. Someone pointed out that the youngsters of the Rabbit Society should ride and carry weapons wherever possible. From a little distance, the age and maturity of an armed rider would be difficult to evaluate.
Tall One addressed her husband.
“My chief, could not the younger women dress in their husbands’ garments and carry weapons?”
“No one would take you for a warrior, mother!” The speaker was Coyote, poking fun at his daughter’s very pregnant abdomen. The circle rocked with laughter.
“It is good!” Heads Off was pleased with the idea. Perhaps not those with small children, but many could pass as warriors.
The young women whispered together excitedly. Heads Off felt that this was good strategy. Not only would it give the appearance of more warriors, but some of the girls were quite adept with weapons.
He had thought it strange, when he first joined the People, that both girls and boys took instruction in the Rabbit Society. His own wife, the Tall One, had been able to outrun him before her pregnancy with Eagle. She was skilled with the bow, a weapon he had never considered his best. And many of the older women, he knew, were expert with the throwing stick. He had seen Big Footed Woman, his mother-in-law, knock a rabbit cleanly with the short, heavy instrument. The women of the People had the knowledge and skills, and in an emergency attack, every weapon might be needed.
The council broke up on an optimistic note. People scattered to their sleeping robes.
“Do you think there will be trouble, my husband?” Tall One always called him “my husband,” especially in an emotional situation. She snuggled against him, the firm bulge of her abdomen reminding him of their vulnerability in case of attack.
“Do you think so?” he evasively returned the question. “You know the People better than I.”
“I do not know. If the Head Splitters think we are weak, they will try to kill us.”
Yes, he thought, drawing her close, or steal our women. He remembered that, when he had first seen the traditional enemy, he had been told, “ … they steal our women. Our women are much prettier than theirs.”
Now, that threat was much closer to his own awareness. He pulled Tall One protectively to the shelter of his arms and held her gently.
“Then,” he stated positively, “we must be ready.”
He wished he really felt as confident as he tried to sound.