CHAPTER TWELVE
Strikes Fast, the Crow scout, never danced at any of the Pikuni celebrations. He couldn't. After all, he was not in the Blackfoot camp to become a member of the tribe. Rather, he remained with the Pikuni's to repay a debt. However, in all these five years, he had been unable to perform a deed brave enough to properly return the favor bestowed upon his family by the Pikuni brothers—Eagle Heart and Chief Chases-the-enemy.
It wasn't enough that his sister had married Chief Chases-the-enemy, which she was bound to do, for the chief had saved both her and her baby boy's life.Koottáahile,truly, Strikes Fast was imprisoned here within an enemy camp due to his own inability to perform a deed noble enough to free himself.
He had been twenty-and-one snows old when the medicine man and scout, Eagle Heart, had saved his sister's life. Even now, he cringed to remember it had been the two brothers, as well as Eagle Heart's wife, Laylah, who had been unafraid of the creature responsible for the trouble.
It was not with pleasure when Strikes Fast recalled that he had been so shocked at the presence of the beast, he had been unable to act. And so, he was here within the Pikuni camp, sitting and watching the others celebrate their hunt and good fortunes this day. But, he could never, would never, participate in the celebrations of the Pikuni, for the tribe was his traditional enemy…and would always be his traditional enemy. He would not, he could not, forget the murders of his father, his mother, his brothers and one other.
Something new, however, had happened in the Pikuni camp. Two more white women had recently arrived at the white man's fort but were not staying within the fort. One of them was claimed by the medicine man, Gray Falcon, although he had not yet married the woman.
The other seemed to be the wife of a white man who had accompanied the two women. At least, Strikes Fast believed the man was married to the woman, though the two did not live together.
But, the white man's ways were strange. Perhaps married people did not live together in white society.
Still, married to the white man or not, only a blind man would have looked away from the woman, for she was not only pretty, her looks were unusual. She, like Strikes Fast, rarely attended or watched the Pikuni dances. Indeed, it appeared to him as if she were afraid of the Blackfoot people, or perhaps she was fearful of Indians in general, which caused him to wonder why she had traveled into this country.
As she sat across the camp circle from him, he watched her, although his gaze was never overt. Rather, as a scout and warrior, his glance at her would have been impossible to detect by any but another alert scout.
Currently, she sat beside her husband, the white man the Blackfeet calledSaaáam Isttsikóksspainni,Medicine Paint. She did not look at this man nor at anyone else in the camp circle. Instead, her glance was centered downward, and everything about her demeanor displayed her emotional torment: the woman was frightened.
Still, she was quite pretty. With the sun sitting low in the sky, its effect sent shadows over the young woman's delicate features. Her hair was a color he had never before witnessed on either a man or a woman, it being an orangey-brown color, similar to that of a newborn fawn. Oddly, her eye color appeared to be a light amber-brown and often matched her hair color.
Looking at her eyes now, he realized their framework was unusual since their structure was not turned slightly down at the outside corners, unlike the framework of many Indian people. Instead, her eyes didn't turn up or down, and that effect on her was quite attractive.
Her skin color was as pale as the bluffs that surrounded this place, although there was a reddish tint to her cheeks. Her eyebrows were thin and colored the same as her hair, but it was her figure, clearly outlined by her dress, that mostly drew his attention.
Indian women were more discreet in the way they clothed themselves, rarely showing their figures to advantage. But, the white woman's dress hugged her ample bosom and tiny waist as though to show each off to perfection.
Sighing deeply, Strikes Fast looked away and turned his attention to the matter at hand. A large buffalo herd had been spotted by the Pikuni scouts, and the men were, at present, preparing to go on the buffalo chase.
Their first preparation—the buffalo dance—was currently in progress. Gazing outward, Strikes Fast saw nothing unusual: the men had stripped themselves of all unnecessary clothing and had painted their faces and their bodies with emblems of their dreams. As he looked on at the buffalo dance, he heard the drums begin the cadence that would end this part of the celebration.
Soon each warrior would bring his buffalo pony forward and would paint the animal in a similar manner as the warrior, himself. The camp's excitement in the chase was compelling, and Strikes Fast found himself becoming excited, also, if only because he would be a part of the hunt this day.
Indeed, he owned the best buffalo pony in all the Indian nations, and it would be unthinkable not to participate.Kalée Lichíile,Runaway Horse, was his very best pony, and Strikes Fast admired the animal almost as much as he might love and care for a treasured son. To show his deep regard for the stallion, he kept the horse always near, even going so far as to tie the pony beside his tepee at night, for Strikes Fast would not be parted from his steed.
Returning his attention to the dancers, he remembered again why he didn't celebrate with these people and why he never would: he did not make friends amongst the enemy.
Even though he had lived with the Pikuni people for the last five snows, it was never far from his mind that the Blackfeet were an enemy tribe. Always the memories of the Pikuni attack upon his family were lodged within his mind and his heart. He would not forget nor forgive.
The exception to this, however, were the two brothers—Eagle Heart and Chases-the-enemy—as well as Gray Falcon, all to whom he owed his allegiance.
But, as friendly as he was to these three men, he rarely sought out their company, and he preferred to remain apart from all the other Pikuni people. That these Blackfoot people tolerated him, their enemy, amongst them was a fact of honor for them. Still, he was not in this camp to make friends, but, rather, to repay the debt he owed the two brothers and their friend, Gray Falcon.
Strikes Fast brought his attention back to the buffalo-hunting party which, having only finished painting their buffalo ponies, was ready to leave. He looked on as the hunters' wives fondly touched and doted on their husbands, wishing them a safe and bountiful return.
Watching them hurt. Observing such moments was difficult for him, reminding him of how long he had been away from his own home in Crow country. In all these years, he had purposely taken no Pikuni woman to his sleeping robes. Nor would he do so, because such an act would be an insult to his own people. And so, he looked away from the lovers and married folk, even as he arose to trod toward his fine, spotted buffalo pony.
He set his shoulders back and held his head high, as was befitting a young Crow scout. He looked neither left nor right, but was still aware of several glances from a few Blackfoot maidens, and, though these women were pretty, he rarely allowed himself more than a passing glance at them. Indeed, he was not interested.
His own love, Yellow Swan, was the reason. She was always in his thoughts, even though she had long ago passed on to the spiritual world. In truth, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't loved her, and she had returned his love. He had been nineteen snows, and she had been eighteen, on the day of the Pikuni raid.
He'd lost more than her and most of his family on that day; he had also lost his soul. Because of this one Pikuni raid and the carnage it had left behind, all human compassion, empathy and even understanding had died within him. Truly, all he had known for as long as the two years following the raid was the need to avenge the deaths of his loved ones.
And, he had. He had killed many Pikuni warriors since then. But, it had never been enough to satisfy him.
Indeed, he might have killed more. But, five years ago, Eagle Heart, Eagle Heart's brother—Chases-the-enemy—and Gray Falcon had saved the last surviving members of his family: his sister, as well as her baby. And, they had performed the heroism in the face of a deadly enemy—an enemy that had so frightened Strikes Fast, he had fallen to his knees, shaking and unable to mount a defense.
