The Adventures of Silk and Shakespeare (8 page)

Hairy was standing alone and naked. He began to laugh. He bubbled with laughter. He roared with laughter, a gargantuan clown.

Bewildered and elated, Tal started for the pony herd, wobbling as he ran.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

excellent plot, very good friends

—
Henry IV, Part 1
, II.iii

They moved far and fast. Hairy insisted, though, that the chance of being followed was slim as a hair. This was meant as a tribute to his achievement, which he referred to as the rout of the Cheyenne nation.

“They shall long remember,” Hairy gloated, “the mighty magic of Shakespeare. They shall relate in story and in song how they quaked in their boots before the tree that burst into a torch.”

As a courtesy to Pine Leaf, Tal didn’t ride her new war horse on the way. He was moody. He didn’t feel like talking. Occasionally Hairy would slow down his whooping celebration to ask how come Tal had got sullen.

Sullen, yeah, that was it—he felt sullen.

How come? he wondered. Didn’t I get the war horse, like I went for? Still, he was moody, and didn’t care who knew it.

They got to winter camp on the evening of the third day. The people left their cooking fires and watched and gave ululations of joy as the two rode into camp. Hairy held up the bushy, red-black scalps, and Tal trailed the war horse.

Tal and Hairy had painted their faces black. The eyes of the women shone with admiration and gratitude. The men were beaming with pride. Beckwourth followed the two through camp, gesturing at them and repeating over and over in the Absaroka language the same words. Tal imagined he was saying over and over, “My friends,” or “My brothers.”

Welcome home, thought Tal. A sort of home. No, my legendary home, he told himself, my mountain aerie. He half-believed it.

Only Pine Leaf did not come out to welcome the two heroes.

Watching and listening to Hairy, Tal was irked—half at himself for telling his part too simply, too modestly, and half at Hairy for his braggadocio.

Antelope Jim had explained to Tal beforehand that this sort of celebration, coup-counting, was not bragging at all. It was carried on in a different style entirely from the white style—anyone who spoke was taking upon himself to tell the most particular and scrupulous truth, omitting interpretation and exaggeration and simply telling what he saw, no matter who looked good or bad. You were on your honor not to tell stretchers.

And Tal had told—how he took a notion from Pine Leaf’s remark, though in truth she’d made no such promise to him. How they got Yellow Belly to point out the horse and the owner. How they’d followed the Cheyennes, and then just the band, on up the Tongue River. Exactly what they’d planned and exactly what they’d done. He was careful to give credit to Hairy for saving his life. Tal even included getting pissed on by the horse.

He’d quit with the part about getting the horse out of camp, because that was the end of his doings.

It wasn’t till he was finished with the telling that he saw Pine Leaf sitting quietly at the back of a group of women. She surprised Tal with her gravity. He’d never seen her without a hint of devilment. Now she was simplicity, attention, respect. Tal figured he should feel complimented.

Hairy also told the truth accurately, but he made it a show. He spoke theatrically. He grinned and grimaced, gestured with his hands, used a little body English to enhance a point.

The Crows loved it, evidently, especially the women. Which is what irked Tal.

“Tal didn’t know what devastation I truly had planned,” Hairy explained. “I traded Tulloch for some linseed oil and a keg of powder. Wanted to get a show going. Nothing distracts people, or horses, like a fire. Nothing we needed more than a little distraction.

“After I scalped Leg-in-the-Water”—he paused for the cries of joy, and encouraged them by pumping one arm into the air—“I slipped into the lodge. Figured his woman couldn’t tell between us in the dark.

“Knocked her on the head. Then had plenty of time in there all alone. Poured the oil all over everything. Got the blaze going with a stub of candle—it went up fine. Hauled the woman out of there.

“Stowed the powder keg in the crotch of the tree, lit a slow fuse, and cleared off to watch the fun. Found Tal come back to help me, like a brave lad.

“Lodge blaze drew a crowd, she did. They was hollering on account of finding Leg-in-the-Water dead, and his woman out cold, and their lodge destroyed. All by an unseen enemy!” Hairy swaggered, practically waggling his tail.

“That’s when I struck my real coup.

“When they was all there, ghoulish curious, the powder keg blew. Whooee! She blew!”

Cries of trepidation.

“The tree was all dead leaves, which lit up like candles. A sun in the night, we had, surrounded by many stars. The Cheyennes were staggered, struck in their hearts with fear. Such as were not knocked down, fled for their lives.”

Cries of joy! Cries of victory!

Then Hairy told about shooting the one, and scalping him, showing the actual hair.

Tal still thought scalping was revolting. He could see, though, it was a crowd-pleaser.

The drums started, calling for the main event. Tal, uncertain now, stepped aside to get the object of his quest, Leg-in-the-Water’s horse.

As Tal led the horse into the circle, Antelope Jim stepped close. Jim had the darnedest queer expression on his face.

“Give it to her proud, Tal,” Beckwourth murmured. Yes, proud. So why did Jim look so sad? Oh. Maybe he feared he’d lost Pine Leaf.

Tal took a deep breath and stepped right out into the middle, near the fire. Little cries rose, and the drums stopped.

The horse looked splendid. Tal had curried it to a fine gloss, and tied Leg-in-the-Water’s scalp in its red mane.

Tal looked around for Pine Leaf, and beckoned her forward. He seemed to have no words. When she came in front of him, he just handed her the lead rope. Then he remembered not to let his head hang, and lifted it proud.

Pine Leaf looked straight and deep into his eyes. She began to speak oratorically in the Absaroka language.

Antelope Jim, squatting behind Tal, translated softly:

“I thank my friend Tal for this fine horse, and Hairy for the scalp of its owner. They took great risk to get these prizes, and tricked the Cheyennes cleverly. I will be proud to ride the horse, and hope to honor Tal by killing many Blackfeet from its back.”

Tal now understood the saying, it was worth it.

“I must tell them, though, that this is not Leg-in-the-Water’s war horse, and the Cheyenne Shakespeare killed and scalped was not Leg-in-the-Water.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

What’s in a name?

—
Romeo and Juliet
, II.ii

Tal rocked on his feet, afraid of falling.

The people were hushed.

Antelope Jim stood up and said, “It’s my fault.”

Hairy pawed toward Jim, head down.

Yellow Foot stepped forward and spoke quickly in Absaroka. “I tell them,” he repeated in English, “The fault is of me.”

Hairy turned toward Yellow Foot, then toward Jim. He looked like a bull deciding which man to charge.

Yellow Foot continued, and Jim told the white men what he said. “When Tal said he wanted to steal the horse Pine Leaf had spoken of, I told Pine Leaf and we agreed that Leg-in-the-Water was too formidable an opponent.

“We spoke to Antelope.”

“I said,” put in Antelope Jim, chuckling, “that I didn’t want these brave white men to take out our only worthy enemy among the Cheyennes.” Laughter among the watchers.

“So we played a small trick on our friends,” Yellow Foot went on. “I pointed out the wrong warrior to them, who had another fine sorrel horse.”

A chorus of low exclamations from the people, mixed with smiles.

“I thought to protect them. I did not know they would prove so clever and so fierce. I am glad they are our friends, and ashamed to have deceived them.”

Yellow Foot lifted his eyes to Hairy and Tal.

“To make up a little for my bad mistake, I have put ten ponies of my own by their lean-to, all fine ponies.

“I beg their forgiveness.”

Yellow Foot hung his head.

Tal, swimming in a sea of strange feelings, stepped forward, grabbed Yellow Foot’s hand, and shook it. Then he ran off into the dark.

Jim found him in the lean-to. Tal was trying to read
Scottish Chiefs
by candle lantern, but couldn’t keep his mind on it.

Jim suggested they water the new horses, who were in a rope corral nearby. The two walked the dozen steps to the creek and back a few times, giving the animals water from their hats, not talking.

When they’d finished, Jim said, “Those are good horses. Extra good horses. Yellow Foot feels bad about what he done.”

“Yeah,” said Tal.

“He means to give you somep’n bigger’n horses.”

Tal just stared at the ground.

“Means to protect your tail come spring. You see, come spring, whole lot of Cheyennes gonna be after your hair. And Hairy’s more so. You boys plain embarrassed them.”

Tal couldn’t think what to make of this.

“You’re gonna need friends,” Jim added, “and you got em.

Tal scratched at the ground with one foot, then nodded.

“Best come back to the dance,” Jim suggested. “Somep’n more’s gonna happen for you. Somep’n nice.”

They moved off together. “Hairy’s already got what he wanted,” Jim said, with a lewd smile. “Off in the bushes. He could get plenty of it tonight.”

“When he gets a Crow name,” Tal ventured, “it will be Mighty Mating.”

“Don’t tell my wives that,” said Jim, tickled.

They were approaching the dancers around the fire.

“By the way,” said Jim, “don’t fret about Hairy’s brag. The people think he conducted himself all right for a white man.” Jim looked sideways at Tal. “You brought honor on yourself.”

Tal felt glad at his friend’s praise. Tal squatted to watch the dancing. The drums beat eternally. Tal thought drumbeats must fire the Indian soul. They made him feel queer, out of sorts with himself.

Soon Pine Leaf waved Tal into the center of the circle and called for quiet. The drumbeats faded to a pulse. Hairy put a big paw on Tal’s shoulder and smiled down at him. Pine Leaf had two skin-wrapped bundles.

“Because our Long-Knife friends have brought honor and glory to our people,” Pine Leaf called, “I wish to honor them in my own way.”

She unfolded one skin and brought forth a book.

“Shakespeare,” she said, “I give you Shakespeare.” Hairy stepped out and took it from her hand.

“Tulloch says it is songs of the singer whose name you bear,” Pine Leaf said.

Hairy held it up and roared, “
The Tragedies of Shakespeare
. The noblest lines in the English language speak from these pages.”

He grabbed Pine Leaf’s hand, bent low over it, and kissed it. She drew it back with an embarrassed smile, and a nervous titter was heard.

“Thank you, dear lady and comrade-at-arms.”

Hairy withdrew, hugging Shakespeare to his huge chest.

“And I wish to honor Tal,” she reached into the other bundle, “with this.”

She drew out a long, long sash, like Tal saw at the fort that one day, and handed it to him.

He gawked at it. This one was entirely of sky-blue silk. The ends were decorated with elegant beadwork, and tasseled with braids of golden cloth.

“Wherever you go wearing this sash, you go with my blessing,” said Pine Leaf.

Tal’s knees gave, and he bumped down.

“As you went with the blessing of some other girl, my rival,” she teased, “when you wore this handkerchief.” She tugged at the silk blazon in her braid.

Tal started to rise, but Jim put a hand on Tal’s shoulder, keeping him on his knees.

“One thing more,” Antelope Jim called out, repeating himself in the Absaroka language. “James Pierson Beckwourth, hero of the mountain Crows, has a special gift for Tal as well. Hand me your lance,” he said to Pine Leaf. She did and Jim lifted it high.

“I now shall knight you a new name, a badge of honor. Antelope Jim and his wives and Pine Leaf have chosen a name that stands for your style, your smoothness, your radiance.

“Therefore, by the power vested in me as war chief of the nation, which I got by popping the scalps off many Blackfoot heads, I hereby designate you Knight-Errant of the Absaroka people, and dub thee…Silk!”

He laid the lance blade on the left shoulder of the kneeling Tal, then the right.

“Arise, fair knight Silk, and go forth to mighty deeds!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Thrice is he arm’d that hath his quarrel just

—
Henry VI, Part 2
, I.iii

Tal had no idea where he was. The sun was up, for a long time—he could feel it on his face, and he was hot. He didn’t intend to sit up yet, because he thought he’d be sick. Best let well enough alone. The sun on his eyelids was enough to see.

Seemed to be a lot he couldn’t recall. Getting his sky-blue sash from Pine Leaf, that was there. Also getting the new name from Jim. Silk. “Silk,” he whispered happily—and cringed. Sounded like hammer on rock in his head.

Let’s see, after the name, he and Jim and Hairy raised several toasts to the newly christened knight. Then things got dim. He thought he recalled Pine Leaf trying to take him into a lodge to be with this girl who wanted him, and he felt like a fool and said no. No, no, no. He thought he remembered Hairy and Beckwourth having a rip-roaring wrestling match in front of a big audience—his recollection was that Jim had had the best of it, but he couldn’t guess how. He could recall thinking he ought to pick a place to pass out. The rest was darkness.

He scooched and found out that whatever he was lying on was uncomfortable. He scooched again, harder—and sat halfway up in pain. Whoa! Dizzy! Falling back, he saw what he was lying on—poles.

Poles!

Jesusgawdamighty. He looked from side to side, turning his head ever so gingerly. He was ten feet off the ground, bedded down on lodgepoles propped through cottonwood limbs. No wonder his back and tail hurt.

He stared to sit up again, and discovered the earth starting to rotate on its axis. He flopped down quick.

Someone laughed. In a cavernous voice.

Tal lay back with his eyes closed and considered. He was on a scaffold, that’s what this amounted to, a burying scaffold. Someone was funning him.
Someone
, meaning Hairy. Tal decided to kill
someone
.

Something was wrong with his arms too—they didn’t work. Felt like they’d grown fast to his body.

Tal wasn’t up to killing anyone just now anyway. He got dizzy just thinking about it.

He cracked one eye, then the other, and pointed them where his arms used to be.

He couldn’t believe it.

“We wrapped you up like a Christmas present,” Hairy intoned. “You be our sacrifice to Bacchus, god of the grape.”

Tal was blinking. He’d been wrapped in a blanket and tied with his new sky-blue sash, making a giant bow. And it was pinning his arms snug.

“Wagh! You looked like you was gone under. You did so. Wagh!”

Tal decided this was too much. Time to get mad. He lifted his knees and got his hands beneath his thighs.

“Easy, hoss,” called Hairy.

Tal lunged upward, meaning to sit.

The poles supporting him bent—that is, the flexible tips of two of the lodge poles flexed even more. Then they sprang back. Tal bounced up a little, and coming down smote the poles with his bottom.

They flexed deeper. They slid sideways on the branch. They skinnied off and headed for the ground. And shot the tied-up Tal right down the chute.

Tal threw up on the rough earth, sideways. He opened his eyes gingerly. He heaved once more, sort of testing, got nothing, and thought he could risk getting to his knees. At this eminence he swayed for a moment. Then he gently began to fumble around himself, he didn’t know what for, maybe taking inventory. His skin was raging, like it had been rasped off. His head was gonging, like he’d been cold-cocked. He knew he was mashed here and there, like a stepped-on orange. He’d never felt so rotten in his life. He threw up again.
Someone
put a hand on his shoulder. Tal slapped it away and muttered, “Bandanna.”

“This child be sorry…,” Hairy started meekly.

“Bandanna!” Tal barked.

Cloth touched his hand, and he wiped his mouth and nose and eyes with it. He opened his eyes and saw red—everything awash in watery scarlet. He felt of his right eyebrow, and found it gashed and bleeding into the eye. When he wiped the eye, he could see. Sort of. At least see
someone
squatting there before him with a hangdog expression. Tal just looked.

“It was a joke we done, Jim and me,” Hairy started whining. Tal felt so malicious he let the fool go on. “We made for it to be funny, on account of you was so out, to make a corpse o’ye, and…”

Tal was getting steady on his knees. As soon as he was steady enough, he was going to squash someone’s big snout with his knuckles.

“You surely did look funny, too,” Hairy babbled on, “a-tied up like for Christmas and fancied with a bow. This child be rightly sorry about your sash, Tal, I mean Silk, truly he be.”

The sash. Tal took hold of himself. He grasped the ends of the big bow and awkwardly tugged until they untied and fell away from his arms. He unlooped them from around himself, and let the blanket drop, carefully maintaining his balance propped on his knees.

He inspected the sash.

It had grass stains, and dirt stains, on the beautiful sky blue.

And it was snagged and ripped where a limb had caught it and the earth had roughed it.

It was ruined. The sash Pine Leaf gave him was ruined.

Hairy had ruined it.

Tal lowered his head and took a deep breath. A broken tip of pole, long as a boy, was within reach. Without effort at concealment Tal reached for it, cocked it well back, and clubbed Hairy on top of the head.

The giant looked like he was going to cry. But seeing the look on Tal’s face, he humphed to his feet, fussed for an instant, and took off running.

Tal was on his tail. He whapped the pole down on Hairy’s shoulder.

Hairy dodged around a sagebrush. Tal followed, his stomach only a little whoop-de-doo on the curve. He could gain on the straightaways.

Hairy rumbled to the edge of a little dry wash, leaped in, and tried to scramble up the other side.

Tal caught him. The giant was clawing haplessly at the crumbly earth.

Tal laid it to him on the back. Hairy pretended not to notice. Tal whacked him on the head, and brought blood from the scalp.

Tal raised the pole overhead again, and started to lose his balance backward. Hairy, tears on his cheeks, put out a big hand, pushed Tal to the ground, and ran off down the wash, sending back a pathetic wail.

“Go find yourself another sucker for a partner,” Tal screamed after him.

“You through?”

Antelope Jim was squatting on the bank, looking down at Tal, plopped in mid-wash.

“Yeah,” said Tal bitterly, “I’m through with him.”

Jim let this set.

“Through for good,” Tal said, getting to his feet. “Partner like that—get me killed, or mocked, or run out of the country.”

Jim stuck a hand down and helped Tal up the side of the wash.

“Man’s gotta be a jackass to buddy up to that.”

Jim said nothing, and handed Tal a canteen. When Tal had swigged deep, they started toward Jim’s lodge. Tal saw Jim was carrying the sash, which Tal had left in the dirt. Well, to heck with the sash—it was all spoilt now.

Tal didn’t have much to say over coffee. “Hangover cure,” Jim muttered. Jim’s wives served Tal in their one metal cup, which was a gesture of consideration for a guest. Only Little Wife spoke to him, and she carefully prefaced each sentence with his new name, Silk. The three women sat or kneeled at the back of the tipi while the men ate. Mad as he was, Tal couldn’t help noticing that something was different. The women treated him like a warrior, not like a kid.

Well, I am a darn warrior, he thought to himself. Got the horse—well, a horse—and the scalps. Well, Hairy got the scalps. Tal was half confused and half mad.

Jim started in easy. “You two got some bond, you know.”

Silk just looked at him, harsh.

“You saved his life from the griz.”

“Now I’m real thankful for that,” said Silk sarcastically.

“And he saved yourn from the Cheyenne.”

Silk snorted.

“He buddies you.”

Silk slammed the metal cup onto the ground. Coffee splattered—Silk was glad it missed the hides, but made no move to pick up the cup. He crawled toward the door flap.

Jim folded up the sash and handed it to Little Wife. He spoke to her in the Crow language, too rapidly for Silk to pick up a word from outside. Then he joined Silk in the autumn morning.

It was cool, sunny, and promising. For a moment they stood there gazing around, ill at ease.

“Silk,” Jim started in, “it’s an open winter so far. Ought to be fair enough to travel for a spell yet. What say we go for a walk? I got something in mind.”

Tal fidgeted and thumbed his belt downwards and nodded. “Don’t care what we do,” he allowed, “so long as it’s far from Hairy.”

So they got to packing, with Pine Leaf’s help, and left without even telling Hairy goodbye.