| General Fiction posted October 5, 2014 |
  |
Passages
by bhogg
The wind was raw. The season was between leaves turn yellow, and the time of heavy snow. The time of heavy snow comes quickly in the land of the Southern Utes. Four members of the Mouace band were sent to scout and identify a winter place for the tribe. Two went back, but brothers, Akule and Honon chose to stay and explore some more.
In Southern Colorado in what we would call 1829, white settlers had started moving through the Sante Fe Trail, heading East to West. Akule and Honon had heard of the wagons, heavy wood bottoms and cloth tops that move as one across the land. For white men, the two were much more familiar with the Spanish up from Mexico. They had been major trade partners for the Mouace for as long as the tribe could remember. The need for a winter place was very consistent with the Mouace way of life. They had an abiding love for the land, and when they sensed pressure on the land resources, the people would take down their wickiups and move. It was always best to be as one with the Earth Mother.
The trip to the Santa Fe Trail was a short one. Both were riding horses and the side trip should only take two suns. Their horses lacked the elegance of those of the Plains Indians. They were short in height, but broad in the shoulder and butt. They were perfect for the scrub brush and rolling land of Southwestern Colorado. They seemed to go forever and could cover long distances with their sure and steady gait.
The two stopped and paused at a mesa. It was close to sunset. Akule said, "Look at the sky. The late day sun across the scattered clouds looks like a river of gold."
"Perhaps you're right, Akule, but right now, I'm more interested in where we're going to sleep and what we're going to eat. Your name means to look up. Honon refers to the bear, and I'm hungry."
Akule had to smile. Honon was so predictable. Not only were the two brothers, but were the best of friends. Both spotted a wisp of smoke. "Let's take a look. It's not likely that it would be marauding Arapaho. Most likely, some of our Shoshone brothers who just might be cooking."
The two rode down toward the river-bed. In Spring, the bed would be a raging torrent. Leaves turn yellow season was dry season, and this one drier than normal. As they neared, they heard a sound, the unmistakable sound of metal pounding on metal.
They cautiously approached. In their world, caution often meant living another day. Stopping at a bend, they looked ahead at the source of the smoke. What they saw was a surprise. Often hearing of these serpentine flow of wagons on the trail, they saw a single wagon. Only one man and one woman.
Honon asked Akule, "Brother, do you remember when we visited our Plains relatives last year?"
"Yes, why?"
"Unless they were on the seasonal hunt for winter meat, the hunters would always pick out a single buffalo who wandered from the herd. There was no safety from being alone. Surely, that lone wagon can be no different. For one thing, the river bed is unsafe. If it were to rain, they would be swept away. If the Arapaho were around, they would be killed."
"You're right, Honon. Let's move closer and take a look."
The sound of metal to metal was the man pounding on an iron strip that circled the large wagon wheel. Re-harnessing his four horses, he started to remount his wagon. The horses seemed to be agitated, and were nervously pounding the ground with their hooves. With a shout, he jumped back and yelled, "Snake!, Libby, hand me the rifle." As the woman handed him the rifle, the snake bit the lead horse. The horses shied, but did not run. The man shot the snake. The snake curled up into itself and writhed in its death agony.
Honon asked, "Why did he use the thunderstick? The snake is cold and not moving fast. Why not just beat it with a stick?"
They watched as the man first checked on the woman, then the horse. "I don't know, honey. The horse is bit. If the poison sets in, he'll at least be sick, or even die."
The man went to the water barrel to get some water for his wife. It was empty. Looking at her, he said, "We can't even get no boiled corn meal. We got no water. Maybe we can just have some salt pork." Opening another small barrel, he pulled out a piece of pork. It was covered with maggots. With disgust, he threw it on the ground. "We've just got to catch up with the others. They'll spot us food until we can get us some more."
Slowly, the two headed the wagon West.
When they were out of sight, Honon and Akule approached the camp site. Akule stuck his knife into the pork and lifted it to his nose. With a shudder, he quickly flicked it to the ground. He then picked up the snake. Looking at Honon, he asked, "I wonder why he didn't take this? We have the sage hen to eat, but we can cook both and have enough for morning.
After a moment of foraging, they found a sheltered campsite. Akule had gathered choke berries and dandelion root. Honon had a container full of amaranth and wild onion. Starting a fire, Honon filled his prize possession, an iron pot, with water and added all ingredients. Reaching in to his bag, he added another treasure, a palm full of sugar.
Akule started to skin the rattlesnake. "I'll never forget how you got the pot and sugar." With a chuckle, he said, "When we captured the Arapaho this Spring, I got his horse. Of course, we couldn't equally share the one horse. You're the smart one. You got the Arapaho and sold him to the Mexicans. You got two iron pots, two knives, a blanket and the sugar. Me, I just got a crippled old horse."
As the grain stew boiled and the hen and snake cooked on the open flame, the two passed a smoke pipe. Akule asked, "Do you think the white man and woman will die?"
"Well, as surely as the single buffalo will fall, if they don't meet with the strength of others, they will die." Honon paused before continuing, "We could give the man some water and food and make sure he travels in the right direction. He seems to know nothing. Even though the water is not flowing, there are many places in the stream bed where water can be had. That's how we filled our water baskets yesterday. Perhaps we can catch up with them tomorrow."
The two cooked their meal and ate. Akule burped, a certain compliment.
They caught up with the wagon by mid-morning. It actually hadn't gotten far. The two even had time to hunt. They had a rabbit and two sage hens. All had been killed with a throwing stick.
The white man and woman had their horses tied off. The man was examining the swollen leg of the horse that was bitten by the rattlesnake. Honon and Akule had dismounted to approach the wagon. They did not want to frighten the man and the woman. As they neared the two, Akule made a simple sign. Grasping his two hands together with a slight shake indicated friends. This was almost universal for all of the plains tribes.
With a startled look, the man reached for his gun. He screamed at the two Indians, "You will not torture and violate my wife."
With horror, they looked on as the man raised the gun to his wife's head and pulled the trigger. The retort was not as loud as when he killed the rattlesnake. Nonetheless, his wife went down immediately. Blood was very evident on her head. Akule rushed over, grabbed the gun from the man and swung the stock across the mans head, knocking him out.
The sun was still high when the man awoke. He found himself propped against a tree, not tethered or tied in any way. Looking around, he saw his wife in the back of the wagon. She was actually sitting up. Her head was heavily bandaged, but there was no sign of blood. She was helping one of the Indians clean the sage hens. The other Indian, Akule, was cleaning and bandaging the horse's leg. For the woman and the horse, he had applied a poultice of sugar and ground mesquite pods. Even though sugar was dear, Akule knew it would help both wounds.
The woman looked up at her husband and said, "Look Eathan, the Lord has sent two angels to help us."
Communication was sparse. The two White people did seem to sense some of the sign language which was quite intuitive in nature. Honan showed the man how to dig for water. They went to a shallow place in the riverbed that was shaded. Digging down about three feet, they found water. It took awhile to accumulate, but they were soon adding to the water barrel. As it neared sundown, Honan and Akule, left the people with food and water. They pointed to a peak to the West of them and Eathan understood enough to know that if he headed in that direction, they would meet up with other wagon trains.
The two quietly left. As they reached the peak of a ridge, they turned around and looked back. The man and woman both waved. They rode in silence for a moment. Akule finally spoke. "It is sad about the white people. They seem to come in waves with great hope. There is no way they'll be able to survive."
Story of the Month contest entry
The wind was raw. The season was between leaves turn yellow, and the time of heavy snow. The time of heavy snow comes quickly in the land of the Southern Utes. Four members of the Mouace band were sent to scout and identify a winter place for the tribe. Two went back, but brothers, Akule and Honon chose to stay and explore some more.
In Southern Colorado in what we would call 1829, white settlers had started moving through the Sante Fe Trail, heading East to West. Akule and Honon had heard of the wagons, heavy wood bottoms and cloth tops that move as one across the land. For white men, the two were much more familiar with the Spanish up from Mexico. They had been major trade partners for the Mouace for as long as the tribe could remember. The need for a winter place was very consistent with the Mouace way of life. They had an abiding love for the land, and when they sensed pressure on the land resources, the people would take down their wickiups and move. It was always best to be as one with the Earth Mother.
The trip to the Santa Fe Trail was a short one. Both were riding horses and the side trip should only take two suns. Their horses lacked the elegance of those of the Plains Indians. They were short in height, but broad in the shoulder and butt. They were perfect for the scrub brush and rolling land of Southwestern Colorado. They seemed to go forever and could cover long distances with their sure and steady gait.
The two stopped and paused at a mesa. It was close to sunset. Akule said, "Look at the sky. The late day sun across the scattered clouds looks like a river of gold."
"Perhaps you're right, Akule, but right now, I'm more interested in where we're going to sleep and what we're going to eat. Your name means to look up. Honon refers to the bear, and I'm hungry."
Akule had to smile. Honon was so predictable. Not only were the two brothers, but were the best of friends. Both spotted a wisp of smoke. "Let's take a look. It's not likely that it would be marauding Arapaho. Most likely, some of our Shoshone brothers who just might be cooking."
The two rode down toward the river-bed. In Spring, the bed would be a raging torrent. Leaves turn yellow season was dry season, and this one drier than normal. As they neared, they heard a sound, the unmistakable sound of metal pounding on metal.
They cautiously approached. In their world, caution often meant living another day. Stopping at a bend, they looked ahead at the source of the smoke. What they saw was a surprise. Often hearing of these serpentine flow of wagons on the trail, they saw a single wagon. Only one man and one woman.
Honon asked Akule, "Brother, do you remember when we visited our Plains relatives last year?"
"Yes, why?"
"Unless they were on the seasonal hunt for winter meat, the hunters would always pick out a single buffalo who wandered from the herd. There was no safety from being alone. Surely, that lone wagon can be no different. For one thing, the river bed is unsafe. If it were to rain, they would be swept away. If the Arapaho were around, they would be killed."
"You're right, Honon. Let's move closer and take a look."
The sound of metal to metal was the man pounding on an iron strip that circled the large wagon wheel. Re-harnessing his four horses, he started to remount his wagon. The horses seemed to be agitated, and were nervously pounding the ground with their hooves. With a shout, he jumped back and yelled, "Snake!, Libby, hand me the rifle." As the woman handed him the rifle, the snake bit the lead horse. The horses shied, but did not run. The man shot the snake. The snake curled up into itself and writhed in its death agony.
Honon asked, "Why did he use the thunderstick? The snake is cold and not moving fast. Why not just beat it with a stick?"
They watched as the man first checked on the woman, then the horse. "I don't know, honey. The horse is bit. If the poison sets in, he'll at least be sick, or even die."
The man went to the water barrel to get some water for his wife. It was empty. Looking at her, he said, "We can't even get no boiled corn meal. We got no water. Maybe we can just have some salt pork." Opening another small barrel, he pulled out a piece of pork. It was covered with maggots. With disgust, he threw it on the ground. "We've just got to catch up with the others. They'll spot us food until we can get us some more."
Slowly, the two headed the wagon West.
When they were out of sight, Honon and Akule approached the camp site. Akule stuck his knife into the pork and lifted it to his nose. With a shudder, he quickly flicked it to the ground. He then picked up the snake. Looking at Honon, he asked, "I wonder why he didn't take this? We have the sage hen to eat, but we can cook both and have enough for morning.
After a moment of foraging, they found a sheltered campsite. Akule had gathered choke berries and dandelion root. Honon had a container full of amaranth and wild onion. Starting a fire, Honon filled his prize possession, an iron pot, with water and added all ingredients. Reaching in to his bag, he added another treasure, a palm full of sugar.
Akule started to skin the rattlesnake. "I'll never forget how you got the pot and sugar." With a chuckle, he said, "When we captured the Arapaho this Spring, I got his horse. Of course, we couldn't equally share the one horse. You're the smart one. You got the Arapaho and sold him to the Mexicans. You got two iron pots, two knives, a blanket and the sugar. Me, I just got a crippled old horse."
As the grain stew boiled and the hen and snake cooked on the open flame, the two passed a smoke pipe. Akule asked, "Do you think the white man and woman will die?"
"Well, as surely as the single buffalo will fall, if they don't meet with the strength of others, they will die." Honon paused before continuing, "We could give the man some water and food and make sure he travels in the right direction. He seems to know nothing. Even though the water is not flowing, there are many places in the stream bed where water can be had. That's how we filled our water baskets yesterday. Perhaps we can catch up with them tomorrow."
The two cooked their meal and ate. Akule burped, a certain compliment.
They caught up with the wagon by mid-morning. It actually hadn't gotten far. The two even had time to hunt. They had a rabbit and two sage hens. All had been killed with a throwing stick.
The white man and woman had their horses tied off. The man was examining the swollen leg of the horse that was bitten by the rattlesnake. Honon and Akule had dismounted to approach the wagon. They did not want to frighten the man and the woman. As they neared the two, Akule made a simple sign. Grasping his two hands together with a slight shake indicated friends. This was almost universal for all of the plains tribes.
With a startled look, the man reached for his gun. He screamed at the two Indians, "You will not torture and violate my wife."
With horror, they looked on as the man raised the gun to his wife's head and pulled the trigger. The retort was not as loud as when he killed the rattlesnake. Nonetheless, his wife went down immediately. Blood was very evident on her head. Akule rushed over, grabbed the gun from the man and swung the stock across the mans head, knocking him out.
The sun was still high when the man awoke. He found himself propped against a tree, not tethered or tied in any way. Looking around, he saw his wife in the back of the wagon. She was actually sitting up. Her head was heavily bandaged, but there was no sign of blood. She was helping one of the Indians clean the sage hens. The other Indian, Akule, was cleaning and bandaging the horse's leg. For the woman and the horse, he had applied a poultice of sugar and ground mesquite pods. Even though sugar was dear, Akule knew it would help both wounds.
The woman looked up at her husband and said, "Look Eathan, the Lord has sent two angels to help us."
Communication was sparse. The two White people did seem to sense some of the sign language which was quite intuitive in nature. Honan showed the man how to dig for water. They went to a shallow place in the riverbed that was shaded. Digging down about three feet, they found water. It took awhile to accumulate, but they were soon adding to the water barrel. As it neared sundown, Honan and Akule, left the people with food and water. They pointed to a peak to the West of them and Eathan understood enough to know that if he headed in that direction, they would meet up with other wagon trains.
The two quietly left. As they reached the peak of a ridge, they turned around and looked back. The man and woman both waved. They rode in silence for a moment. Akule finally spoke. "It is sad about the white people. They seem to come in waves with great hope. There is no way they'll be able to survive."
In Southern Colorado in what we would call 1829, white settlers had started moving through the Sante Fe Trail, heading East to West. Akule and Honon had heard of the wagons, heavy wood bottoms and cloth tops that move as one across the land. For white men, the two were much more familiar with the Spanish up from Mexico. They had been major trade partners for the Mouace for as long as the tribe could remember. The need for a winter place was very consistent with the Mouace way of life. They had an abiding love for the land, and when they sensed pressure on the land resources, the people would take down their wickiups and move. It was always best to be as one with the Earth Mother.
The trip to the Santa Fe Trail was a short one. Both were riding horses and the side trip should only take two suns. Their horses lacked the elegance of those of the Plains Indians. They were short in height, but broad in the shoulder and butt. They were perfect for the scrub brush and rolling land of Southwestern Colorado. They seemed to go forever and could cover long distances with their sure and steady gait.
The two stopped and paused at a mesa. It was close to sunset. Akule said, "Look at the sky. The late day sun across the scattered clouds looks like a river of gold."
"Perhaps you're right, Akule, but right now, I'm more interested in where we're going to sleep and what we're going to eat. Your name means to look up. Honon refers to the bear, and I'm hungry."
Akule had to smile. Honon was so predictable. Not only were the two brothers, but were the best of friends. Both spotted a wisp of smoke. "Let's take a look. It's not likely that it would be marauding Arapaho. Most likely, some of our Shoshone brothers who just might be cooking."
The two rode down toward the river-bed. In Spring, the bed would be a raging torrent. Leaves turn yellow season was dry season, and this one drier than normal. As they neared, they heard a sound, the unmistakable sound of metal pounding on metal.
They cautiously approached. In their world, caution often meant living another day. Stopping at a bend, they looked ahead at the source of the smoke. What they saw was a surprise. Often hearing of these serpentine flow of wagons on the trail, they saw a single wagon. Only one man and one woman.
Honon asked Akule, "Brother, do you remember when we visited our Plains relatives last year?"
"Yes, why?"
"Unless they were on the seasonal hunt for winter meat, the hunters would always pick out a single buffalo who wandered from the herd. There was no safety from being alone. Surely, that lone wagon can be no different. For one thing, the river bed is unsafe. If it were to rain, they would be swept away. If the Arapaho were around, they would be killed."
"You're right, Honon. Let's move closer and take a look."
The sound of metal to metal was the man pounding on an iron strip that circled the large wagon wheel. Re-harnessing his four horses, he started to remount his wagon. The horses seemed to be agitated, and were nervously pounding the ground with their hooves. With a shout, he jumped back and yelled, "Snake!, Libby, hand me the rifle." As the woman handed him the rifle, the snake bit the lead horse. The horses shied, but did not run. The man shot the snake. The snake curled up into itself and writhed in its death agony.
Honon asked, "Why did he use the thunderstick? The snake is cold and not moving fast. Why not just beat it with a stick?"
They watched as the man first checked on the woman, then the horse. "I don't know, honey. The horse is bit. If the poison sets in, he'll at least be sick, or even die."
The man went to the water barrel to get some water for his wife. It was empty. Looking at her, he said, "We can't even get no boiled corn meal. We got no water. Maybe we can just have some salt pork." Opening another small barrel, he pulled out a piece of pork. It was covered with maggots. With disgust, he threw it on the ground. "We've just got to catch up with the others. They'll spot us food until we can get us some more."
Slowly, the two headed the wagon West.
When they were out of sight, Honon and Akule approached the camp site. Akule stuck his knife into the pork and lifted it to his nose. With a shudder, he quickly flicked it to the ground. He then picked up the snake. Looking at Honon, he asked, "I wonder why he didn't take this? We have the sage hen to eat, but we can cook both and have enough for morning.
After a moment of foraging, they found a sheltered campsite. Akule had gathered choke berries and dandelion root. Honon had a container full of amaranth and wild onion. Starting a fire, Honon filled his prize possession, an iron pot, with water and added all ingredients. Reaching in to his bag, he added another treasure, a palm full of sugar.
Akule started to skin the rattlesnake. "I'll never forget how you got the pot and sugar." With a chuckle, he said, "When we captured the Arapaho this Spring, I got his horse. Of course, we couldn't equally share the one horse. You're the smart one. You got the Arapaho and sold him to the Mexicans. You got two iron pots, two knives, a blanket and the sugar. Me, I just got a crippled old horse."
As the grain stew boiled and the hen and snake cooked on the open flame, the two passed a smoke pipe. Akule asked, "Do you think the white man and woman will die?"
"Well, as surely as the single buffalo will fall, if they don't meet with the strength of others, they will die." Honon paused before continuing, "We could give the man some water and food and make sure he travels in the right direction. He seems to know nothing. Even though the water is not flowing, there are many places in the stream bed where water can be had. That's how we filled our water baskets yesterday. Perhaps we can catch up with them tomorrow."
The two cooked their meal and ate. Akule burped, a certain compliment.
They caught up with the wagon by mid-morning. It actually hadn't gotten far. The two even had time to hunt. They had a rabbit and two sage hens. All had been killed with a throwing stick.
The white man and woman had their horses tied off. The man was examining the swollen leg of the horse that was bitten by the rattlesnake. Honon and Akule had dismounted to approach the wagon. They did not want to frighten the man and the woman. As they neared the two, Akule made a simple sign. Grasping his two hands together with a slight shake indicated friends. This was almost universal for all of the plains tribes.
With a startled look, the man reached for his gun. He screamed at the two Indians, "You will not torture and violate my wife."
With horror, they looked on as the man raised the gun to his wife's head and pulled the trigger. The retort was not as loud as when he killed the rattlesnake. Nonetheless, his wife went down immediately. Blood was very evident on her head. Akule rushed over, grabbed the gun from the man and swung the stock across the mans head, knocking him out.
The sun was still high when the man awoke. He found himself propped against a tree, not tethered or tied in any way. Looking around, he saw his wife in the back of the wagon. She was actually sitting up. Her head was heavily bandaged, but there was no sign of blood. She was helping one of the Indians clean the sage hens. The other Indian, Akule, was cleaning and bandaging the horse's leg. For the woman and the horse, he had applied a poultice of sugar and ground mesquite pods. Even though sugar was dear, Akule knew it would help both wounds.
The woman looked up at her husband and said, "Look Eathan, the Lord has sent two angels to help us."
Communication was sparse. The two White people did seem to sense some of the sign language which was quite intuitive in nature. Honan showed the man how to dig for water. They went to a shallow place in the riverbed that was shaded. Digging down about three feet, they found water. It took awhile to accumulate, but they were soon adding to the water barrel. As it neared sundown, Honan and Akule, left the people with food and water. They pointed to a peak to the West of them and Eathan understood enough to know that if he headed in that direction, they would meet up with other wagon trains.
The two quietly left. As they reached the peak of a ridge, they turned around and looked back. The man and woman both waved. They rode in silence for a moment. Akule finally spoke. "It is sad about the white people. They seem to come in waves with great hope. There is no way they'll be able to survive."
 Recognized |
I recently went to an Indian Pow-Wow. It was sad really. The real true Americans.
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