Sidewinder (5 page)

“Yes, I think that is Brad’s horse.”

“Is that Brad?”

She stood up in the stirrups and waved her hand at the figure on the horse. On Brad’s horse.

The man did not wave back. She settled back down in the saddle.

“Who is that?” she murmured, more to herself than to Julio.

“
Indio
,” Julio said under his breath.

And Felicity felt her blood run cold as a hollow pit opened in her stomach and goose bumps rippled up her arms.

A cloud passed across the sun and she felt a sudden chill.

The squawk of a jay outside the wickiup roused Brad from his sleep. He opened his eyes to darkness and confusion. He heard the bird as it rustled leaves and pine needles, scratched the ground just outside the opening of the shelter. He felt a weight on his body, a blanket of some kind. He felt the covering with one hand, felt the fur, and wondered where he was for a long moment. His head ached and one of his hands felt as if it had been clawed by a wildcat. It stung, and when he touched it, he felt a sudden sharp pain. The pain made him suddenly sick to his stomach, and he fought to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

He felt his now-swollen hand and shoots of pain coursed up his arm. He felt woozy and lay there for several moments until he saw a sliver of cream light break to the east, sending in shafts of shadows. Now he could hear the scurrying of chipmunks outside the lodge, and the sky began to take on a crimson hue. He looked around, hoping to discover where he was. His memory was locked somewhere in the dregs of dream and in the pain that gripped his hand and arm, in the boiling gases of his stomach.

Gradually, as the light crept into the shelter, he began to remember. He pulled himself up, pushing down the buffalo robe that covered him. As memory began to return, seeping into his consciousness, he expected to see the two forms of the Indians he had met the night before. He squinted and could make out only one sleeper, and the Indian was stirring, slipping off his buffalo robe, and stretching both arms to the smoke hole and the paling sky.

It was Gray Owl, the Hopi, and before Brad could say anything, the red man was on his feet and standing over Brad, his face in darkness.

“You wake,” Gray Owl said.

“Just barely,” Brad said.

“Huh?”

Brad didn’t know whether the sound was a question or a grunt of assent.

“Bear?” Gray Owl said.

“
Un poco
,” Brad said in Spanish.

“Ahhh,” Gray Owl said. “Do you have hunger?”

Brad sat up, rubbed his stomach.

“Sick,” he said. “
Enfermo. Mi estómago
.”

“Ah, it is the bite of the snake,” Gray Owl said in Spanish.

Brad saw his pistol lying next to where he had slept. It was in its holster. He touched the top of his head, very gingerly, looked around again to see if he had missed anything that might be his.

“What you look for?” Gray Owl asked in English.

“My hat. I was wearing a hat.”

“Ah, no hat. You no need hat. Let the sun cure your head, Sidewinder.”

Sidewinder
. That was the name the Indians had given him.

“Where is Wading Crow?” he asked.

Gray Owl walked outside, stared at the fiery sky of morning.

“Wading Crow get horse.”

“My horse?”

“Yes. He track horse, bring horse back. Give you horse.”

Brad jumped when he heard a rattle from one of the baskets. At that moment, Gray Owl turned and saw him.

The Hopi grinned.

“Rattlesnakes,” Brad said, and it wasn’t a question. There was no mistaking that sound. Other snakes began to rattle, and Brad scanned the floor to see if any had gotten loose.

“I have gift for Sidewinder,” Gray Owl said as he walked back into the shelter.

“I hope it’s not a rattler,” he said.

Gray Owl walked to his robe and reached underneath it. He pulled out something, wadded it up in his hand, and walked back to Brad, who was still nervous over the snakes. Gray Owl opened his hand.

Brad stared down at a set of rattles. Attached to them was a thin strand of sinew.

“Take,” Gray Owl said. “Wear here.” He raised his hand and pointed to his neck.

“What for?” Brad asked, taking the rattle necklace.

“Bring good luck to Sidewinder. I cut from snake you killed. Snake that bite you.”

“I killed the snake that had these rattles?”

Gray Owl nodded. He signed that Brad should wear the necklace.

Brad put it on.

“You get in trouble, you shake rattle. Good luck.”

He felt funny wearing the rattles, but Gray Owl had saved his life, most probably. Brad would wear the necklace as long as he was there.

“Why do you have all these snakes in baskets, Gray Owl?”

“Sit,” Gray Owl said. “I tell Sidewinder a story.”

They sat opposite each other, the fire ring between them. Gray Owl put some kindling on the coals and stirred them with another stick. He blew into the coals. They flared and ignited the kindling. As he talked, he added more sticks to the fire.

“Snakes for Snake Dance,” Gray Owl said. “Wading Crow good friend. I bring sidewinder from my hunting grounds. We catch snakes in mountains. Take to village, dance the Snake Dance of my people.”

“Who are your people?”

“I am Hopi. My people the Summer People of the Hopi.”

“You dance with live snakes?” Brad was dumbfounded. He had never heard of such a thing.

“Big medicine,” Gray Owl said.

“Why?”

“Tell story. You listen.”

“I’m listening,” Brad said. His hand and his arm had stopped hurting, and his stomach was no longer roiling. He fingered the rattles around his neck. He liked the smooth bony feel of them. They seemed to have a calming effect on him.

Gray Owl’s face danced with fire and shadow as he spoke, and his eyes looked like polished black agates.

“Many robe seasons ago, a father of the Summer People and his son had bad words about the offerings made for our gods. The son told his father that he did not believe there were any gods. He did not believe the gods took the offerings and ate them. He said the offerings just rotted away. The father said that there were gods and that they ate the offerings.

“The son said he would go to the Lower Place and find out for himself if there were any gods. The father and the Wise Ones told the boy that the gods did not actually eat the food offerings. They took from them the core, what is the heart-meaning of the offering.”

“The essence,” Brad murmured, caught up in the story.

Gray Owl nodded.

“The boy did not believe his father or the Wise Ones, and he left the village. As he was walking along, he met the Silent One, a Tewa rain god. The Silent One said to the boy: ‘Where are you going?’ The boy answered, ‘I am going to the Lower Place to look for the gods.’ The Silent One told the boy, ‘You cannot go there. Even if you walk until your hair is white as the snows and your teeth fall out, you will never get there. It is too far. Go back to your village. The gods are real. Do not have doubt that there are gods.’

“After telling the boy this, the Silent One changed himself into a god. He was like smoke and mist and cloud. The boy looked at the Silent One in his god form with wonder and fear. Then the Silent One made himself into a man once again, eh? And the boy was even more shaken. He was like a little tree in the wind. He shook and shook.”

Gray Owl paused and stirred the fire. It was now warm inside the rustic hut, even as the cool breeze of morning breathed a chill into the air.

“Did the boy go back to his village?” Brad asked.

“No. He had a stiff backbone. He went on. He wanted to find out if there were truly gods. He did not believe there were any gods.”

“Stubborn,” Brad said.

Gray Owl made no comment. Instead, he continued with his story.

“So, the boy continued his journey to the Lower Place. He met Deer-Kachina-Cloud, another god who was in human form. Gods could do that. The god scolded the boy, and told him to turn around and go back home. The boy would not and Deer-Kachina-Cloud became angry. ‘I have horns,’ the god said. ‘I am the gamekeeper for your people. ’ Then Deer-Kachina-Cloud changed into his god form and the boy saw the horns and the deer hooves and the face with much hair, and he had much fear from the snorting and the scraping of hooves on the ground. Then the god changed back into man form. The boy said he was going on to the Lower Place. Deer-Kachina-Cloud told him that he was near Snake Village. ‘Go there,’ Deer-Kachina-Cloud told the boy, ‘after you go there, you go back home.’ ”

Gray Cloud stopped and took a deep breath. He looked up through the smoke hole and closed his eyes.

“Did the boy do what he promised?” Brad asked.

“Ah, do you think a boy like that would give up the hunt?”

“I don’t reckon,” Brad said. “But he did promise, didn’t he?”

“Ah, yes, the boy did promise the god that he would visit Snake Village and then go back to his village.”

“So, what did the boy do?”

“As he was walking toward Snake Village, another god in man form stopped him. This was Star-Flickering-Glossy Man. He was dressed in a coat made of many bird feathers. He warned the boy again and told him he could go only to Snake Village. ‘Go no farther,’ he said, and gave the boy a little twig with leaves. ‘The snakes will try to bite you because you are a doubter. This herb will protect you. Shake it, show it to the snakes. In the center of the village there is the head man. Go to him. Go to him quick. The snakes are also spirits, and they can change into men. You will be in much danger.’ ”

Gray Owl stopped, and looked long and hard at Brad.

“This is a long story,” Gray Owl said. “You may not be ready to hear the rest of it.”

“I would like to hear it all, but I’m thinking I’d better get on home. My wife will be worried.”

“Maybe she looks for you,” Gray Owl said.

“Maybe.”

“Wading Crow will return soon. I will tell you the rest of the story another time.”

“How long will you be here? Have you got enough snakes?”

“We need thirty,” Gray Owl said, and he made the sign, opening and closing his hands three times, extending his fingers when hands were open. “We only have twenty. No, one less, now that the sidewinder is in the spirit world.”

“I’m sorry I killed your snake,” Brad said.

“You killed so you would not be killed. That is all a man can do.”

“I am not as sick as I should be. You got much of the poison out, I think.”

“The poison was not much. Only a little got into your body.”

“I am grateful. Thank you.”

“That sidewinder was not meant for the dance. It made a journey to you, and you killed it. You took its medicine and now you have it in you. The rattles will help you overcome your enemies. They are good medicine.”

“I believe they just might be,” Brad said.

Gray Owl got to his feet.

“Believe,” he said in a solemn tone. “Believe and the gods will watch over you.”

Brad said nothing, but he felt the weight of the Hopi’s words. A man could be what he wanted to be. Doubt was the enemy. He wondered if the Hopi boy, the doubter, would come to a bad end.

He could hardly wait to hear the rest of Gray Owl’s story. He stood up and walked outside, breathing in the air, the scent of spruce and pine. Jays squabbled in the trees and chipmunks darted away from him, tails quivering, tiny squeakings issuing from their mouths. The snakes had stopped rattling, and the sun was rising still higher in the sky.

He flexed the snakebit hand. It worked just fine, he thought, and his head was returning to normal. He walked back inside and picked up his holstered pistol, strapped it on.

“I’m almost dressed,” he told Gray Owl, who was cutting up meat for stew. “I might have to buy a new hat is all.”

“Let your hair grow long, Sidewinder,” Gray Owl said.

“That is all the hat you need.”

Gray Owl flicked his braids at Brad and grinned.