Michael Blake - The Holy Road

All at once he felt whole, the connection of everything that made him one person suddenly evident. The wavering flames in Ten Bears, fire were interchangeable with himself. They burned in concert for life — just as his own mind, body, and heart burned. And like himself, they were subject to the vagaries of wind and water, sun and air, wholly dependent on the Mystery for existence.

In the moments before the council convened, Smiles A Lot's surprising transformation reached its climax, and by the time the pipe had traveled twice around the first circle, the boy who knew horses had shed an old, hindering skin. His perception had shifted from himself to the world around him. He was no longer self-conscious, and as Ten Bears made ready to speak, Smiles A Lot tuned his senses to receive the headman's every word.

Ten Bears understood that the tension in his lodge was coming from an invisible fissure beneath his feet, a rift that separated Kicking Bird and Wind In His Hair and their followers from one another. To feel it troubled him, but as he looked out over the warriors gathered around him, he felt his heart and mouth come together and felt secure that his words, even if they fell short of unifying the opposing factions, would soar high above earthly cares, for he was sure they had been touched by the Mystery.

In silence the old man turned in a circle, passing his eyes over the crowd. When he had completed the first rotation he briefly lifted his face to heaven before beginning his address.

"We are all together," he began. "It is good for Comanches to be together. Our power is always greater when that happens.”

As he spoke Ten Bears began to move, constantly shifting his attention from place to place, making contact with everyone sitting around him.

"You can see my face," he continued, "and you can see this object I have lain over my nose. You may find it strange but do not fear it. It is a magical apparatus, for with it I can see you just as you see me.”

To demonstrate the proof of what he was saying Ten Bears picked out warriors all over the lodge, identifying them by name and alluding to unique items that adorned them.

"But I do not need this to see that the men in my lodge have two minds. One mind is for peace and one is for war. These two minds trouble me because peace and war cannot sit together comfortably, and my heart goes to the ground when I see Comanches divided.

"We know about the wagon raid and the great deeds that were done there," he said, directing the words toward Wind In His Hair. "But Kicking Bird has been walking a different path and he has yet to tell us about it. We should hear what he has to say."

Kicking Bird rose as Ten Bears descended. He, too, scanned the entire gathering, but as he began to speak he kept his face turned toward the Hard Shields and their sympathizers. Without embellishment or prejudice he described the meeting with the whites, taking care to personify the participants by giving their names and detailing their appearances.

But as he began to outline the substance of Hatton's offer the Hard Shield contingent grew visibly restless and a sneer began to grow on one of Wind In His Hair's lips. When Kicking Bird related the proposal for the Comanche and Kiowa to live in a single, restricted area, Wind In His Hair was finally compelled to interrupt.

"Put a Comanche in a pen and the Comanche will die."

As if ignoring a heckler, Kicking Bird held up his hands for quiet and pushed on.

"I think Bad Hand and his soldiers would not mind if we defy him. I think he would be happy to make war on us. But he will not come to steal our horses or robes or weapons. They want only to drench the prairie with Comanche blood. White people give their soldiers money to do this."

Again Wind In His Hair interrupted.

"If Bad Hand comes out here it might be his blood that goes into the earth. That might happen to any white man who dares to come into our country. I am ready to kill as many as I have to."

A flutter of approving grunts and murmurs flew up around Wind In His Hair, and Kicking Bird waited for them to die down before he continued.

"I do not think all the whites are bad. . not all of them should be killed."

Several shouts of derision sailed across the fire, but for the moment they succeeded only in hardening Kicking Bird's reserve. He pointed sharply at Ten Bears and his voice rose.

"The white who knows how to make eyes new. . the one called Lawrie Tatum. . his heart is good. He wants only to serve us. . and the Kiowa, too. He wants to help us and take care of us."

"Take care of us!" Wind In His Hair shouted, jumping to his feet.

"Put a Comanche in a pen and the Comanche will die! What do you say to that, brother?"

A hush followed Wind In His Hair's outburst and, as all eyes fell on him, Kicking Bird seemed suddenly placid and majestic in the lonely silence that surrounded him.

"I agree," he said quietly.

Wind In His Hair grunted haughtily.

"How would you die, my brother?" Kicking Bird asked.

"Like any man — as a warrior."

"What of your wife, your children? How should they die? Fatherless? Starving? Helpless?"

"In a pen?" Wind In His Hair retorted.

Kicking Bird appealed now to everyone.

"I do not want my children to die. I want them to grow."

"And what do you want them to eat? White man biscuits that soften the teeth and make them fall out? " Wind In His Hair threw his arms out declaratively. "I want my children to grow on buffalo!"

A smattering of cheers erupted around the lodge and Wind In His Hair turned his fearful gaze on Kicking Bird once again.

"Comanche warriors defend their country and everything in it. They defend their brother the buffalo. What does Kicking Bird do? He sits at the feet of the whites like a child. He takes the puny hands of the enemy in his own while his relations fight and die. You are dirty with white men. You talk like a woman. . like a coward!"

The two warriors rushed each other but their charges were blunted by the lightning appearance of Smiles A Lot. His recent integration of self allowed him the freedom to move without thought, and he had started up as Wind In His Hair's verbal assault reached its apex.

Now he stood spread-legged between the warriors, his hands grasping each of their shirts.

"You cannot fight!" he shouted. "Not in our grandfather's lodge! Do not bring disgrace on him."

The warriors understood the rightness of Smiles A Lot's words and, as their tempers cooled, they looked down on Ten Bears. The old man was the picture of serenity. The would-be combatants glanced at each other sheepishly and offered apologies to Ten Bears.

"Forgive me, Grandfather," they both said, almost in unison. Ten Bears acted as if he had not heard and did not look up as Wind In His Hair bent close to his face.

"Do not take offense, Grandfather, but the air in your lodge tonight has grown too stale for me to breathe. I wish you good night."

With that the one-eyed warrior swept out, followed by the Hard Shields. The rest of the council was breaking up as he departed, but, unlike the many warriors who shared Wind In His Hair's views, there was no unity among those who thought of peace. They walked out in mute little groups of two and three without speaking to Kicking Bird, who in the end found himself alone with Ten Bears.

The old man continued to smoke serenely, the glasses still fixed on his face, and after rejecting a multitude of parting comments, Kicking Bird settled on a simple good night and walked alone into the night.

No one could give him comfort, and Kicking Bird dragged his wounded heart into the special lodge, where he sat long into the night, struggling to recompose his shattered spirits. His dream of a workable rapport with the whites lay in pieces. He had lost the support of his staunchest adherents, men who had trusted his initiatives. Worse, he had lost face and could no longer expect that anyone would listen when he spoke.