As they hurried toward the shelter of the broken, rocky ravine, Coyote rapidly sketched the happenings of the morning.
It had not taken long to realize that the village was extremely vulnerable, with all of the horses and most of the young warriors gone. The remaining warriors, realizing the possibility of a trap, had organized a defense. Coyote modestly played down his own very important part of the plans, but Heads Off was aware of it. Coyote could introduce an idea and make others believe they had thought of it.
As luck would have it, the most experienced group in the old ways of run-and-hide fighting were now in charge. The Bowstrings moved the women and children into the broken, wooded area, and prepared for the expected attack.
The wait was not a long one. Fifteen or more mounted warriors thundered into the area from the north, yipping their war cries. A shower of arrows left several horses riderless, and the bowmen retreated toward the ravine. Riders wheeled in pursuit of running men on foot, and several of the People fell before the survivors gathered at the mouth of the gully.
Protected by rocks and trees, they now made a stand. Every attempt at approach by the enemy horsemen was met by well-aimed arrows from ambush. For a time it appeared that the Head Splitters were considering an attack on foot, but they abandoned the idea, probably as too costly.
So, a stalemate resulted. The Head Splitters could not further
pursue the People, but the People could not move from their hiding places.
Frustrated, and knowing that the Elk-dog warriors would be returning, the enemy turned again to the empty village. They looted the lodges, fired a great number of them, and mutilated the few dead of the People. They were just starting to withdraw when their scouts called out the approach of the returning Elk-dog men. Insolently, the enemy mounted and rode over the ridge to the west.
Heads Off was greatly tempted to pursue and punish, but realized the futility. He beckoned to Long Elk.
“Get the others, and catch any loose elk-dogs. Stay near!”
Long Elk nodded, and swung to his horse, shouting to several others of the young men.
Tall One lay in a small clearing ringed by berry bushes. Big Footed Woman stood proudly by. Heads Off hurried forward.
“It is finished, my husband,” the girl announced proudly. She lifted a corner of the robe to show a round red face against her shoulder. “We have another small man-child!”
Heads Off knelt and touched his wife’s face, squeezed her hand.
“The child is beautiful,” he told her. He was still numbed by the great risk they had just survived.
“No, not beautiful, but big and strong,” she answered, smiling. “Here, hold him!”
Heads Off lifted the carefully wrapped bundle and peered at the owlish face.
“He is healthy? Well-formed?”
“Yes, my husband, but he has no fur.”
The little group chuckled together. It was a family joke. At the time of the birth of Eagle, Tall One had been extremely
depressed that the newborn had no facial hair like his father.
Heads Off nodded solemnly.
“Yes,” he answered, “it is too bad. Shall we try until one has fur on his face?”
Coyote chuckled happily, and the baby blinked his large eyes at the brightness of the day.
“I think he should be called the Owl,” announced Coyote. The name would stick longer than anyone knew. Coyote was extremely perceptive when it came to names.
Another, temporarily deferred, thought struck Heads Off. He knelt beside his wife.
“Tall One,” he began, hesitating, “our lodge is gone.”
“I know, my husband. I saw it start to burn. It is no matter. We had none before our marriage. Now we will have another.”
Heads Off wished that he could be as matter-of-fact about possessions as the People. Their home, all their food supply, all had gone up in greasy black smoke, and “ … It is no matter.” He knew better. It would be a very hard winter. It must be spent here, at this place, with little food and worse, with little chance to hunt.
The Head Splitters now knew their weaknesses. In fact, they may have known all along. Increasingly, Heads Off began to suspect that they were engaged in a sort of cat-and-mouse play, with all the advantage on the side of the enemy.
“You will move in with us, of course.” Coyote was talking. “We have plenty of room.”
It was not “plenty,” Heads Off knew, but would be adequate, though crowded.
“What will the rest do?” he asked his father-in-law.
Coyote shrugged. “Move in with relatives. Not more than half have lost their lodges.” He spoke as if this were good fortune.
The People were scattering down the stream, returning to the ruined camp. Coyote and Heads Off turned to follow and evaluate the extent of the damage.
“See if you can find my cooking stones!” Tall One called after them.
People were already sorting debris, salvaging even unburned portions of smoldering lodge covers.
“They started with the biggest lodges,” observed Coyote.
It was true. The enemy had deliberately selected the lodges of the more affluent on which to wreak destruction. This lent more weight to the thing Heads Off feared. It had been a deliberate move to destroy supplies and to destroy the ability to obtain more, by reducing the horse herd.
The high wailing of the Mourning Song rose from the far side of the camp as someone discovered the loss of a family member.
Standing Bird trotted up, astride his red buffalo mare.
“We have several more elk-dogs, Heads Off!”
“It is good!” And there’s not much that is, he added silently to himself. “Tie them all, so we lose no more. And, Standing Bird,” he called as the other reined away, “spread word of a council tonight. We must make plans.”
There was much to do before dark. The People moved like ants, meticulously working over the ruined debris of their homes. It was found that the empty make-believe lodges had been spared, probably because they appeared makeshift and worthless. Soon they were no longer a pretense, but actual homes of the dispossessed. Others did indeed move in with relatives.
One amazing thing had occurred. The lodge of White Buffalo was untouched. Even though one of the most pretentious, and therefore most subject to attack, the enemy had left it intact. The medicine man was taking credit for the omission, pointing out
that he was protected by the strength of his medicine. Most of the People readily accepted this interpretation of the matter.
Heads Off knew that his friend and adviser, White Buffalo, was an opportunist, taking advantage of a situation to increase his prestige. However, it seemed likely that the enemy had indeed avoided damage to the lodge. They could easily recognize it as the lodge of a medicine man, by the intricate and extensive painting on the lodge skin. Not knowing the extent of this man’s powers, they would avoid direct confrontation as a matter of safety. So, in effect, the young chief realized, the old man was correct. His medicine, or at least the fear of it, had saved the lodge of White Buffalo. And, the sacred white cape of the People was still safe.
Bodies of the dead were ceremonially wrapped by mourning families, and prepared for transport next day to tree scaffolds for burial. The enemy dead and wounded had been carried away by their comrades as they departed.
All was far from complete as Sun Boy finished his daily run, but other activity came to a halt as the council fire was lighted. The People began to straggle to the center of their ruined camp.