Lakota (6 page)

Hinhan Hota then led Mastincala to the lodge of He Hopa. The old medicine man was waiting, his eager eyes betraying his feelings.

"So, you are a boy no more, Rabbit," He Hopa said. "Much waits to be done. Much. You are ready?"

"I am ready," the young man replied solemnly.

"Then it is well we should begin."

Mastincala followed He Hopa inside the lodge. The young man then sat beside the elder and listened to admonitions concerning the responsibilities of a Lakota. There was lore to be passed along, stories of boldness and daring. Finally, when He Hopa was satisfied all was in order, he escorted Mastincala out of the tipi.

"It's time for him to seek his vision," He Hopa announced.

Hinhan Hota then appeared. The Owl led his son to the edge of the camp before halting. Wicatankala arrived carrying a fine cloth breech-clout and a pair of beaded moccasins.

"These are for my brother," she said, never looking directly at Mastincala. "They will bring him a brave heart in his search for a dream."

Mastincala accepted the fine moccasins and the breechclout with a silent nod. Wicatankala then left. Her role was over, for the rite that followed, the seeking of a vision, was also a boy's introduction into Lakota manhood. It was as ancient as the Lakota people, and in all that time fathers had introduced their sons to the wakan, the mystery, of the rite.

Hinhan Hota took great care to strip Mastincala of his boyhood clothes. Though the air was cold and the wind sharp, he was given only the new breechclout and the moccasins to wear.

"Today is the beginning of manhood," the Owl explained. "I peel away all that is false and send you naked before Wakan Tanka. Open your heart to the great mystery that is life, my son."

Hinhan Hota then conducted Mastincala to a rocky cliff some distance from the camp. There he was instructed to remain until he received a vision.

"You may pray and sing, Mastincala," his father explained. "But no food or drink may pass your lips. The starving shows you are worthy of the dream. When it comes, pay great heed to it. All that follows in your time as a man will flow from this dream."

Hinhan Hota then left the Rabbit alone in the rocks. For a time Mastincala stood in the sharp breeze, confused, wondering how one might bring on a vision. The silence haunted him. He felt cut off from his family, from his band, from all he knew. And as he stood in that lonely place, the hunger began to gnaw at his belly.

"Hear me, Wakan Tanka," Mastincala finally prayed. "Bring to my heart the knowledge I seek. Show me the sacred road I must walk."

He then sang a brave heart song. Afterward he prayed again.

Never did the sun cross the heavens so slowly. Day lasted a lifetime, it seemed. And when darkness arrived, Mastincala faced it with the same chant and the same prayer. His throat was parched, and his belly ached with want. Still he refused to cry out. He shivered with cold that night, then blinked his eyes as a bright sun tormented him the next morning. Hau! Manhood was not as easily faced as he imagined. And as he suffered, he wondered what became of a boy denied a vision. There was but a single answer. He died of hunger or exhaustion.

Toward dusk his voice grew weak. His tongue swelled, and sweat left his body weak with fatigue. Finally he could stand no longer. His knees buckled, and he fell.

Then the dream came.

It was unlike anything he had seen or felt before. His soul seemed to be floating on a cloud. He was swept along on the wind over a broad plain, past familiar hills and mountains, above rivers and streams where he had swum and fished. He saw bands of Crows and Snakes, war parties of Pawnees, buckskinned wasicuns with their hairy faces and flint-lock rifles. Finally he descended to the plain.

Now he was Tatanka, Bull Buffalo, rumbling over the yellow grass prairie, leading the humped multitude on the run. Thunder exploded behind him, and great yellow blades of lightning split the gray heavens.

"I am Tatanka," a deep, sorrowful voice seemed to boom across the world. "See how my power shakes all the earth! Who will sing the brave heart song and follow me?"

Mastincala wanted to boast that he, the Rabbit, would follow, but only that booming voice emerged from his lips. It was no longer for him to follow as a boy might. Now he must lead!

The dream took him many places, for Tatanka seemed able to follow the Lakota star map painted upon the sky. He marched across the plains to Pe Sla, the sacred hoop, then rumbled on to Mato Tipila, the Bear's Lodge mountain to the west. When Bull Buffalo had finally completed his journey, he stopped. Where before a thundering herd had followed, now there were but a few.

"Hau, my way is sacred," Tatanka said. "The road is hard, and few feet can stay upon it. Hau, have the brave heart! Come, follow me."

Again Mastincala wanted to answer, but the words were his own. He swelled with pride, for the call to lead would bring honor. Then he felt himself floating again, drifting upon a cloud. Overwhelming darkness swallowed him, and there was only the numbing cold of the night to torment his bare flesh.

Hinhan Hota brought him down from his solitude the next morning. Mastincala was weak and could hardly stand. The first droplets of water that touched his lips brought forth a fierce thirst, and he hungered for the taste of wasna. He got neither. Instead, he was conducted to a water hole.

"Ate, my dream," Mastincala muttered.

"Hold it close to your heart, my son," Hinhan Hota urged. "Soon you must tell He Hopa. The old one will help you to see its meaning."

Mastincala nodded, then surrendered his will to the Owl.

Sunka Sapa, the Black Dog, and Waawanyanka, the Watcher, now arrived to help restore Mastincala to the living. The two young men were but a summer older than the Rabbit, and both were eager to provide assistance to a young man with no older brothers or cousins. Hinhan Hota oversaw a careful washing, for Mastincala must cleanse himself of all that had come before. Then he was fed enough to restore his senses. Finally Hinhan Hota escorted his son to the medicine lodge. He Hopa was waiting.

"We must bring back the dreaming," the medicine man explained as he helped the Rabbit inside the nearby tipi. "You remember?"

"Yes," Mastincala said, forcing his eyes to focus on the wrinkled old man.

"Tell it all," He Hopa urged, and Mastincala then related the strange dream.

He Hopa had sat quietly as Mastincala recounted the dream. Even when the young man finished, He Hopa remained stone-faced, silent.

"What does it mean?" the Rabbit asked. "Am I to be a leader among our people?"

"Perhaps," Four Horns said, gazing at Mastincala's forehead. "That is not for you and I to say. If a man sets out upon a path, others may follow."

"What path?"

"Tatanka calls to your heart. Bull Buffalo is sacred among all the creatures that walk the earth. It is he who gives us the warm coats and coverings for our lodges. He fills our bellies in the cold moons of winter. He is beloved to Wakan Tanka. A man who follows Tatanka would give himself to the people, seeking only their good, even as Tacante, the man who was your father, did."

"I am to sacrifice myself then," Mastincala said, digesting the news somberly.

"It's a hard road, little friend. It will take a brave heart. This you have."

"Yes," Mastincala said, stiffening his shoulders.

"Tatanka promises great power to the man who walks his path. He will need it, for there is great peril."

"Tacante told me you promised him a short life if he put on the people's shirt, agreeing to tend their needs. Is my walk also to be a short one?"

"Nothing in the dream speaks of this," He Hopa explained.

"But you have great power to see what will come."

"Not so great as to say how long a man should live," He Hopa explained. "I have told you it is a hard path Tatanka calls you to walk. But Wakan Tanka watches the brave hearts. So you will be watched, nephew."

He Hopa stood and walked to the far side of the lodge. He rummaged among his belongings until he located a pouch made from a bull buffalo's bladder. The bag was decorated with elk teeth and hair, and a sacred red rock dangled from a rawhide thong on one side.

"This is strong medicine, Mastincala," He Hopa declared. "So long as you remain true to Tatanka, so it will keep you safe. Hau, it holds great power!"

"Thank you, He Hopa," Mastincala said, accepting the gift.

"I now walk the bent backbone days of my life," the old man said, clutching his young companion's wrists. "Soon my time upon the earth will be at an end. Give me your eyes and ears, young one, that I can teach you the mysteries of the wakan, the sacred ways."

"But I am to be a warrior."

"A warrior has need of medicine, too, Mastincala," He Hopa said gravely. "More so if he is to lead. There are great dangers in the world to come, and a man who can see them will save the people from great harm."

"I will learn all I can," Mastincala promised.

"Hau!" the old man then shouted as he led Mastincala from the lodge. "Look here, my brothers, and see Mastincala reborn as a man."

"Hau!" Hinhan Hota cried, and the shout was taken up by others among the camp. Hokala, the Badger, who had so often tormented Mastincala the boy, yelled loudest of all, for he had only just completed his own dreaming. Cehupa Maza, the Iron Jaw, clasped Mastincala by the shoulders, as did others.

"My son is a man," Hinhan Hota declared proudly as he presented Mastincala to his young brother, Itunkala. The Mouse climbed up into Mastincala's arms. Tasiyagnunpa and Wicatankala gazed with admiration upon the new man among their people.

Mastincala noticed great differences in the way he was now treated. Women retreated at his approach, and young maidens often gazed shyly as he passed nearby or else giggled among themselves. He rode to the buffalo hunt with the warriors, and he was expected to supply game for the kettle.

At first he felt cut off. His mother and sister were occupied with Itunkala, the small one. Nothing was expected of the child. Mastincala grew envious, especially when the long days riding the buffalo valleys left him weary and lonely.

"A warrior rides alone upon his horse," Sunka Sapa lamented as the two young men topped a ridge, only to see there was nothing but another ridge beyond. "Hau! Who will sing the scalp song when I fight my enemies? Only a sister."

But there were times when a boy of fourteen would choose no other fate than to ride as a Lakota warrior. Three days after slaying two buffalo cows and rescuing a dismounted Sunka Sapa from a charging bull, Mastincala was brought before his family.

"Here is my warrior son," Hinhan Hota boasted. The Owl then offered Mastincala a fine shield made of hump hide from a bull buffalo. From it hung tufts of hair given with prayers to keep its holder safe. The face of the shield bore the countenance of Tatanka, the Bull Buffalo, surrounded by white clouds torn by lightning streaks.

"Ate, it is a strong shield," Mastincala observed. "I'll carry it proudly, remembering the one who made it."

"Hau!" Hinhan Hota shouted. "Be worthy of it, my son."

So Mastincala swore he would be.

With the wasicun soldiers busy fighting among themselves in the out-of-sight lands beyond Platte River, the Lakotas enjoyed a time of peace. Oh, there were still raids against the Crows in the north, the Snakes in the western mountains, and the Pawnees south of the Platte, but those fights were little matter. Even the Pawnees, who carried the white man's rifles and fought in his fashion, didn't raid whole villages or cut down women and little ones. Most of the raiders were after horses, though at times women or children were stolen. More often than not, captives were retrieved, and sometimes the horses, too.

There was honor and respect among the fighters, and rarely was killing necessary. Where a warrior could count a coup upon his enemy, with hand or bow or lance, that was done. Only when the blood grew too hot for reason was much killing done. For when a man was killed, surely a brother or son would raise the cry for revenge.

Mastincala had little heart for war. His mind held too many memories of the Blue Creek fight, of his father's death. But near the close of summer, when Mastincala was still a young man of fourteen summers, Cehupa Maza, Iron Jaw, located a Crow camp with many horses on Powder River. Hinhan Hota invited his son along on the planned raid.

"Ah, this will be a remembered time," Hokala, the Badger, boasted. "I will take many Crow horses. Maybe I will take one of their women."

"It's said the Crow women are fat," Cehupa Maza said. "She will fall upon you, Hokala, and crush you to marrow."

"I will choose a skinny one," Hokala replied. "I will fatten her on elk steaks and buffalo ribs."

"She'll certainly put a knife in your own ribs at the first chance," He Hopa said, joining the circle of young men who were readying themselves for the raid. "Crow women are treacherous. They have no love of the Lakotas. Their men have good guns, too. Here, paint your foreheads with ash from the fire so their eyes will not find you in the dark. Tie an elk's tooth in your hair for luck."

He Hopa provided the charms and even helped the Badger tie his behind one ear. The young men respected the wise one's advice, and they made such prayers as He Hopa deemed helpful.