The older men shared a more measured approach to the Cheyenne revelations. Kicking Bird and his contemporaries had been trained from birth as warriors, and fighting was second nature to them, but the weight of age and experience gave them a more practical view Still, there was no consensus here, either. Should they move farther west? Should they go to war with the Cheyenne? Should they think about attending the next time whites sent runners with invitations to a council? These and many other issues were raised, but no one could agree. How could there be agreement on what could not be understood?
Kicking Bird smoked the pipe in many lodges that day, so many that by the time he returned home he wondered if all the smoking had not made him ill. Everyone inside was asleep, but lying down did not soothe his queasy stomach. It rolled in persistent waves and he soon went back outside, hoping the fresh air would take his sickness away.
The back of his lodge faced the open prairie, and as he stood staring at the night, Kicking Bird suddenly felt as if he were the only person in the world. How could this be? The earth was under his feet. The stars were filling his eyes. His wives and his children were asleep with full bellies. There was no sickness in camp. The season had been prosperous and there was no reason to think it would not continue. Comanche enemies were far away, and if they were foolish enough to come near they would surely be defeated. Even the whites, with all their guns and all their people, would be defeated if they came out here. How could they think of coming? What could they possibly want with the country of the Comanches except perhaps to walk across it? The more he thought about it, the more Kicking Bird realized that whatever the whites might bring was not as troubling at this moment as his own people's lack of readiness to meet the challenge.
Smoking so much had not made him sick at all. It was a sickness of the heart that had settled in him. Outside of himself no one in the village knew any white-man words and he had never practiced the words pried whenever possible from Dances With Wolves and Stands With A Fist. They could speak the words, but it was well known that the couple who had been born white would be the last to want anything to do with their birth race.
From all he had heard, the white man's talk was confusing. They had made many promises to the Cheyenne and Kiowa, not one of which had been kept. Even the presents they had promised rarely found their way into Indian hands.
Anyone who treated with the whites would have to be prepared. Kicking Bird was the best prepared of them all, yet he knew almost nothing of white ways. And what if he did? Would it really matter if he were smarter than all the whites put together?
Kicking Bird concluded, wistfully, that it would not matter. The Comanche could not agree on the significance of a single dead rat lying with a hole in its stomach in the middle of camp. How could they agree on a course of action for dealing with a nation of strange people whose numbers were staggering, whose clothes and customs and armaments and food and machines might have come from a world beyond the sun and the moon? Kicking Bird saw no way for the Comanche to remain as they were. He could not imagine the Comanche, or any other tribe, meeting the white threat as one people, and without unity all would surely be lost.
He resolved that night, standing alone behind his lodge, that he would never allow himself to feel this queasiness again. He could no more change the condition of the Comanches than he could reach into heaven and shuffle the stars. But he could still do all in his power to serve his people, his wives, his children, and himself. He could not allow himself to be crippled with doubt. Then he would serve no one.
He did not sleep in the family lodge that night, retiring instead to the tent next door, the place reserved especially for him, the place where the peace medal from the whites hung. His stomach trouble had disappeared completely and he quickly fell into a deep sleep, dreaming a terrible dream that the buffalo had vanished, returning to the earth from whence they had sprung, brothers no more to the Comanches or anyone else. The Indian people were left to wander in starvation, crying ceaselessly for their relatives the buffalo who had deserted them.
Late the next morning, his children, unable to wait any longer, flooded into the lodge of their father and, as they rolled over him in a happy pile, Kicking Bird knew more than ever that no power on earth could sway him from his course, He would do his best to handle what was coming. He would offer all of his experience and wisdom to the cause of leadership. He knew that whatever happened he would not disappoint the tangle of arms and legs in which he was now entwined, and that was good enough for Kicking Bird.
Chapter X
Smiles A Lot had no bad dreams. In fact, he slept soundly and deeply for the first time in weeks.
He was up long before Kicking Bird began wrestling with his children and spent most of the early morning with his horses, trying to figure out how best to exploit his wealth. So beautiful, he thought as he meandered back and forth among them. They all knew and trusted him, and as he passed by, dragging a gentle hand over their slick coats, the ponies would nicker to him or lazily blow the dust from their nostrils in a sign of contentment. He, in turn, felt unbounded affection for them. But he was not thinking how much he loved them this morning, he was trying to decide which ones he could do without.
In the past he'd sought peace in the company of his horses, a living shield against the doubts he had about himself. But now there was no vestige of doubt. Smiles A Lot looked upon his many horses as weapons, and before the sun was at midpoint he was back in camp fully armed.
Smiles A Lot had no capacity for guile, and as a trader he had never displayed the adroitness at bartering that came easily to others. He had never sought anything more than a fair return on the value he offered and that spirit had guided his selection of the half-dozen sturdy ponies he brought into camp that morning.
Three of the ponies he left picketed in front of his father's home. With the other three in tow, he crossed the village to the lodge of Horned Antelope's sister, the newly widowed Magpie Woman. She had lost her husband in the raid into Mexico and her sudden dependence on the charity of others made her a good candidate to provide what Smiles A Lot needed.
She was at home with her two children and seemed happy to see Smiles A Lot. Her chopped hair and the unhealed cuts on her arms made it plain that she was still in mourning, and when Magpie Woman warmed to the offer he made, Smiles A Lot knew he was doing the right thing.
It was common knowledge that his horses were the finest. Any one of them was a prize and he was offering three to the impoverished widow, two for materials and one for labor. Magpie Woman seemed delighted and assured him that the lodge he wanted her to make could be completed before the next full moon. She had enough hides already on hand, and though she might be short a few poles, she assured him she could find more without any trouble.
Returning home, he found his father and mother outside, curiously inspecting the three horses he had left staked to the ground.
'Are these your ponies?' his father asked as Smiles A Lot came up.
'No, Father, they are yours.'
'Mine? What do you mean?'
'I want to trade them for a bow and set of arrows.'
'A bow. . and arrows. . for you?' his father asked.
'I want a long-shooting bow of ash, and maybe twenty arrows.'
Smiles A Lot's father scratched the side of his head. 'Twenty arrows. . that's a lot, son. There is no ash here. I would have to travel one or two sleeps to find it.'
'That is why I'm offering three good ponies instead of one.'
The older man cocked his head quizzically at his boy.
'Why do you want a bow and arrows?'
'Any man has to have such things in his lodge''
'What lodge?' his mother suddenly spoke up.
'Magpie Woman is making me a lodge of my own.'
Smiles A Lot's mother stepped in front of her husband. 'How can you have a lodge of your own? Who will keep it? Who will make your food. . your clothes?'
