Three of the Bloods had ridden ahead to carry the news to the families at the Growers’ village. It was found that they had already heard the news of the battle. The prairie grapevine was swift.
A small band of retreating Head Splitters had stopped to trade for supplies, and had told the story to the Growers. They believed that they had been attacked by the entire tribe of the People, at least by several bands. They recounted the charge from the hill, and that from the camp, and stated that they had been forced to retreat because they were outnumbered.
The Growers were noncommittal. They traded with all other tribes, and their somewhat precarious existence depended on the goodwill of all the hunting groups. Some black glances were thrown toward the families of the Bloods by the Head Splitters, but no overt action was taken. By tradition, one must not attack an enemy or his family or possessions while they are guests of a friendly tribe. To do so would be the worst sort of an affront to their hosts, the Growers. The Bloods’ families were quite safe.
Their presence, however, did result in the early departure of the Head Splitters. They had no desire to be in the area when the People came back for their families.
The wives of the Bloods, meanwhile, were almost frantic with worry. They knew there would surely have been casualties. Which of them would have lost a husband or brother? They could only wait, and try to keep busy until they received word. They gathered
in groups of three or four, and in tense voices talked about almost anything else to distract them.
The circumstances of the men’s departure had been rather unsettling. There had been arguing and dissension. Many of the Bloods had long since realized what most of the wives already knew. To leave the tribe to follow Badger had been a very foolish thing. It was pure good fortune that the little band had not encountered the enemy and been annihilated.
They had temporarily camped to trade with the village of Growers when rumors began to trickle in telling of a coming battle. The Elk-dog band of the People, it was said, were under attack by the Head Splitters, and were about to be overrun.
Most of the Bloods were eager to join the fight, but their leader dissented. Badger, still smarting from the humiliation of the Big Council, smoldered with resentment. He refused to consider such a move, pointing out that the Bloods were no longer a part of the People. If Heads Off and his band were in trouble, so be it. That was the problem of Heads Off, not of the Bloods.
Perhaps it was Badger’s repeated references to the young hair-faced chief that began to turn the tide of opinion. All the young warriors present had been taught by Heads Off, and respected his elk-dog medicine. He had been hard, but fair, and none could hold any animosity toward him as their teacher.
When Red Dog finally announced that he was going, nearly every warrior joined him. Badger ranted and swore, at first forbidding anyone to go. Then, seeing he could not prevent it, he eventually joined the war party, all the while advising, complaining, and threatening.
That was the situation when the women had last seen them. It had been apparent that Badger’s leadership was slipping, and that an uneasy feeling permeated the Bloods that perhaps their leader’s position had not been logical from the first. There were
certainly many who deplored the killing of Sees Far, even though it may have been justified.
So, the waiting women at the village of the Growers had many unanswered questions. They did not know whether their men had taken part in the battle. They were forced to assume so because of the Head Splitters’ description of great numbers, but how many of them had participated? Had the band split yet again?
With great relief they saw three of their warriors ride in the following evening.
“Badger and Heron are dead,” Red Dog told the waiting women. “The rest will be here tomorrow.”
The wife of Badger now began the Mourning Song, joined in sympathy by some of the other women. Heron, a lanky youth from the Mountain band, had had no relatives among the Bloods.
“Are there wounded?” a girl asked timidly.
Red Dog nodded. “Yes, but not badly.” Quickly he recounted the story.
“Aiee,” exclaimed a pregnant young woman. “Our men are with the Elk-dog band? Are we able to return to the People?”
“We do not know,” answered Red Dog seriously. “The Elk-dog band has made us welcome, but it must come before the Big Council.”
In the minds of most, this seemed a more important concern than the loss of their leader. Badger had become so irrational at times that there were those who privately felt a great sense of relief at his demise.
“Then we will go the Sun Dance?” someone was asking.
Red Dog nodded. “We must be ready to move. The Elk-dog band will be here tomorrow.”
The group scattered to begin preparations for the journey. The prospect was a happy one. A chance to see friends and relatives again, even temporarily, was a great lift to the spirit.
Red Dog made his way to his own lodge, where he and his young wife talked at great length. He was excited and optimistic. He was somewhat uneasy about the Big Council, but Red Dog had a better feeling than at any time since they left the Sun Dance last year.