People of the Fire (66 page)

 
          
 
"When a tree blows over, it's dead."

 
          
 
"Then that's one of the better things
about Power. He's not dead."

 
          
 
"He might just as well be."

 
          
 
Hungry Bull lifted her chin with a callused
finger, searching her eyes. "Tell me, if you could drive the Power out,
and you knew it would ruin his life—like cutting off his leg-would you?"

 
          
 
She stared at him, the dullness spreading.
"No."

 
          
 
"Wouldn't you be grateful he's happy?
Isn't that the real meaning of love? No matter what, you've got the girls.
You've had his smile and all of his love. Now he has to belong to the world and
spread what he knows around. Two Smokes thinks Little Dancer can change things,
stop the war. Isn't that worth something?"

 
          
 
For a long time she hesitated, knowing she
remained powerless to stop the turmoil her life had been pitched into. “I
suppose." And I know he has to do this. To stop him would kill him. I just
didn't know how badly I’d hurt.

 
          
 
He smiled and winked at her. "Then come
on. Lets till these baskets and see if this scheme to make food out of is any
good."

           
 
“Someone comes!''

 
          
 
The cry drew Heavy Beaver's attention from the
bits of feather and bone he'd laid out on the finely tanned buffalo-cow hide
before him. Across the way, Seven Suns watched curiously, massaging his wrist
where the joints had started to stiffen and bite.

 
          
 
"I think this bodes well. The
Anit'ah
will be moving, trying to hide in the timber."

 
          
 
Seven Suns narrowed old eyes. "I think it
doesn't take a Spirit Dreamer to know that. If I put myself in the
Anit'ah's
place, what would I do with an entire people
swarming over my country?"

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver allowed himself a casual smile.
You dare not challenge my power now. Seven Suns. It's gone too far for that.
"You may place yourself in anyone's position you want, old friend. But
remember yours." He enjoyed the stiffening of Seven Suns' lined features.
The old man could have turned to stone. Only the knowing eyes remained
expressive—and, of course, Seven Suns knew the reality of his situation.

 
          
 
Voices broke out in a babble.

 
          
 
"Perhaps I should see to this new
disturbance?" Heavy Beaver pulled himself to his feet, irritated by the
extra bulk he'd put on. A Spirit Dreamer should look prosperous, but perhaps he
should move about more, watch his diet. Too much fat would be just as
detrimental as too little.

 
          
 
He ducked through the lodge flap and
straightened, watching the evening sunset falling
bloodred
over the mountains that rose above him. The cottonwoods rattled and chattered
with the breeze while the thick stand of juniper and tall sagebrush behind the
camp whispered. The Red Wall burned crimson—the color almost painful to the
eye—as it reflected the sunset. The broad green valley of the Red Wall
stretched north and south in a delightful emerald vista of lush grass. Blocking
the entire western horizon, the mountains rose as if the earth had been turned
up. Limber pine and juniper dotted the slopes, leading one to believe their
seed had been cast randomly by the Wise One Above. A narrow slit in the rising
slope marked the sheer canyon of the middle fork of the
Clear
River
.

 
          
 
Here, where once the
Anit'ah
had camped, the packed lodges of the People now pointed their tops toward the
sere vault of the summer-scorched sky. The dense forest of juniper and tall
sage rising behind the camp crackled with drought.

 
          
 
The babble of voices rose. Dogs barked and
yipped; the high tones of crying women added to the confusion.

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver turned his steps toward the
commotion, rounding a lodge to find a knot of people bearing a warrior.
Straight Wood! He recognized the young man the crowd supported. The warrior's
head hung low, one leg hitched up painfully as he hobbled.

 
          
 
"What has happened?" Heavy Beaver
stopped, shrugging so his white buffalo-hide cape would sit regally on his
shoulders.

 
          
 
Straight Wood swallowed hard, raising his
head. Pain racked his pale face. Sweat streaked his clothing and glistened in a
sheen on his pallid skin. Looking closely, Heavy Beaver could make out the
bloodstains on the young man's legs. Despite the crowd of anxious people
supporting his weight, flies seemed to home in on the wound.

 
          
 
"Spirit Dreamer." Straight Wood
gulped at his dry throat and shivered.

 
          
 
"Get him some water. Place him on a robe
so he can relax. Someone get him food."

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver watched while the others led
Straight Wood to a lodge and placed him on a hurriedly provided robe. After
food and water were provided, the People crowded around until Heavy Beaver
ordered them back, the word "Dreamer" still echoing in his mind.

 
          
 
"Now you're safe. Tell us what's
happening."

 
          
 
Straight Wood looked up, a crazy light in his
eyes. "We captured an
Anit'ah
woman. She escaped
and killed Two Blue Moons and Tiny Ant. We tracked her and came to an overhang like
the
Anit'ah
live in. An old woman sat out front She
told us to leave or die. Left Hand darted her and the woman we'd captured ran.
I went to see about the old woman. She wasn't dead. It was ..."

 
          
 
"Yes, yes, go on/'

 
          
 
"It was the old witch . . . White
Calf."

 
          
 
A gasp went up from the people.

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver grimaced, waving them down.
"This isn't trouble. I Cursed her to die long ago. She was Powerful. It
took warriors I had personally blessed to kill her." He smiled sleepily as
he turned. "You see, my people. Not even a Powerful witch can stand before
the Dreaming of Heavy Beaver."

 
          
 
"Then you'd better Dream harder,"
Straight Wood gasped.

 
          
 
"She didn't die?" Heavy Beaver
turned, glaring down at the youth, putting all his malice into the expression.

 
          
 
Straight Wood glared back. "She died ...
I think."

 
          
 
"You think?"

 
          
 
Straight Wood swallowed hard, sweat-shiny
throat working. "I didn't stay long enough to find out. The
Anit'ah
woman killed Left Hand, Quick Fall, Firm Dart, and
all the others. The old woman sat there, looking like she'd triumphed. She told
me that we'd brought about the death of the People. She said, 'Fool! With my
death you've spat upon Power for the last time.' "

 
          
 
People gasped again, some taking a step back,
hands over their mouths.

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver chuckled. "So, you'll have
us believe that one woman killed all these brave warriors?" He laughed
again, reading the effect of his scorn on the rest of the People. He had their
attention now. "Fool is right!" He shook his head. "Straight
Wood, tell us the truth now. You fought a party of
Anit'ah
warriors, didn't you? You became frightened and ran, didn't you?"

 
          
 
A burning hatred rose in a bile to charge
Straight Wood's eyes. "You call me a coward? Then listen, Heavy Beaver.
Listen good, all of you!"

 
          
 
"Enough of this." Heavy Beaver
stifled a forced yawn. "I think we know the full truth of it."

 
          
 
"You listen, Heavy Beaver! Listen!"
Straight Wood struggled up, almost falling as fresh blood broke out to leak
down his leg.

 
          
 
This was really too much. Heavy Beaver
motioned to two of the old men. "Get him to rest. He's fevered."

 
          
 
"White Calf told me, 'You're the last.
Run now. Run like you've never run before, boy. Tell Heavy Beaver that a new
leader has risen among the
Anit'ah
. Her name is
Tanager. And tell Heavy Beaver that a Dreamer . . . and the Wolf Bundle are
coming for him. Tell him, and all the People, they'll have to Dance with
Fire!"

           
 
Heavy Beaver had made two steps before
stopping and laughing. "What's this? A woman? A woman? You expect me . . .
and all the People to believe that a woman will drive my warriors out of the
mountains?"

 
          
 
Straight Wood extended trembling hands, eyes
pleading. "You refuse to hear me out. You accuse me of cowardice. Then
know this. I ran from White's Calf's. But I thought I'd been foolish. I found
Has Strength where he'd trapped a party of
Anit'ah
in
the rocks. There I proved myself. I killed one of the
Anit'ah
and started to charge their position when this same woman appeared in the
middle of our warriors. She killed right and left. Darts wouldn't touch her.
She Danced and Sang with a strange smile while—"

 
          
 
"Enough!" Heavy Beaver roared,
waving his hands. "We'll hear the rest of this when Has Strength's
warriors—"

 
          
 
"You'll wait a long time," Straight
Wood cried. "He's dead!
So's
most of his war
party. She gave heart to the
Anit'ah
and they charged
down from the rocks. We couldn't stop them! They came and came and came until
we ran. You hear that, Heavy Beaver? We all ran!"

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver shook his head. "Routed by a
woman?" He smacked his lips, adopting a pained expression. "Take him
away. He's out of his mind. Delirious with pain."

 
          
 
Straight Wood lifted his bloody shirt,
exposing the wounds in his side. "You know so much, Heavy Beaver. You've seen
wounds. You look. You know the difference in how a dart goes in and comes out.
I took this facing a man."

 
          
 
"You see?" Heavy Beaver pointed.
"No wonder he's delirious. Poor man. Take him away. I'll come Sing over
him later, try and bring him back to his right mind."

 
          
 
Straight Wood snorted disgust, sinking slowly
to the ground, lungs working. "And I'll tell you another thing I saw. I
saw White Calf's ghost rise into the air. You've all heard the stories. Her
ghost called a whirlwind and rode into the sky.

 
          
 
"And maybe I was a coward." Straight
Wood worked his dry mouth. "But after what I've seen, Heavy Beaver, you'd
better hope you can Dance with Fire. I know truth. I saw it in White Calf's
eyes."

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver's eyes
slitted
.
"You'd better be right, boy, because lying simply to scare the People and
cover your own cowardice will bring down a more terrible fate than an An-
it'ah
dart!"

 
          
 
And he stomped away, breaking through the ring
of surrounding people who watched him, intently.