But, he was given no vision, and his spirits plummeted.
Awakening at first light, although he was in a debilitated state, he prayed again to Sun, to Morning Star and to the eagle,who came back to him and circled over him again. Looking down, Red Fox saw a herd of elk in the pine forest below him. He prayed to them, though whispering now because his voice was failing him.
He was hungry. He was thirsty, but he would not give up. Again, he climbed down to the ice on the north side of the mountain, there to quench his thirst and give him a little vigor.
Then, reaching the top of the mountain once more, he prayed and slept; awakening after some time, he prayed some more. He entreated his prayers to the lucky buffalo skull, he prayed to all the Above Ones and he beseeched the Creator to help him. But, still he was given no vision.
When night fell, discouraged, weak from hunger and his voice failing him, he could do little more than sleep. And, it was then when it happened.
As a shadow, he left his body and roamed down the mountainside and into the valley below it. There, in the world of shadow creatures, he saw many animals and asked each one of them to help him, but all turned their back on him and lumbered off in a direction away from him.
He came to Bear River—also known as the Marias—and there he sat, seeing no creature at all who might help him. Sadness overcame him, and he was envisioning how lonely his life would be without Poka'aki when a water creature raised itself up from the water and came to sit by him.
Looking down at the creature, he asked, "Will you pity me? Help me?"
The animal answered and said, "I have taken pity on you, and when I did, the Creator spoke to me and has asked me to help you."
Red Fox's heart gladdened, but he said nothing.
"Look there." The creature pointed with a paw. "See there, standing upon the water is a white man with a paper in hishand. See where he is pointing in the paper. Memorize it. Know it."
Red Fox looked. And, there in the middle of the river appeared before him a misty image of a man dressed in the black trousers and the dress coat and white shirt of the white man's fashion. Even a top hat came to form upon the man's head and black boots upon his feet. The last part of the image to form was the curling hair of the man's upper lip.
Red Fox had seen this man once, there at the white man's dance. It was the very image of Maximillian.
Said his water-animal helper, "You must find the paper this man holds, and it must be only this paper. There are several of them. In this one paper, and only this one, the place where this white man is pointing contains a bad lie, a deception he, alone, knows about. Find this lie and expose it, and you and your woman will live a long and happy life together. This, the Creator has asked me to tell you."
Listening and humbled, Red Fox couldn't help the tears that rushed down over his cheeks. He said to the water creature, "I thank you for coming to my plea to help me. I thank you, Creator, for acting through this fine animal."
The water creature answered him and said, "I go now. But, before I go, the Creator has now asked me to have you look again where the white man's finger is pointing. Know it. There, in that place, and only in that one place, will you find the lie."
Red Fox signed to the animal and spoke at the same time, "I see the place. I will not forget to look there. I will not forget you who the Creator chose to help me. I will never, so long as I live, kill nor trap any of your people again."
"I know," said the water creature. Then, arising, the animal slipped back into the river.
As a shadow, Red Fox now returned to his body, and when he did, he awoke with a start. Despite the weakened state ofhis body, he felt exalted. Murmuring a prayer of gratitude to the Creator, he left his pipe, tobacco, his buffalo robe and his knife, which was sheathed in its beaded case, for the Creator. Then, arising with the sun, he drank a little more of the ice, then he trod back down and into the forest, where he would meet George. And, though faint of body, with his every step faltering, he climbed down to the rendezvous point.
****
After completing her bath from the river water which Parisa had brought up to her room, Briella dressed herself in the best hunting clothing she had. New York City could keep all that kind of clothing which accentuated a woman's figure. Give her a good half-Pikuni, half-cowgirl outfit for today.
On this day, she was going hunting with or without George. She would invite her father, Frederic and Maximillian, of course, but she doubted anyone else but her father would join her and George in the endeavor…and perhaps not even her father would participate.
She didn't care. She wouldn't even mind if only she, alone, were to venture out to go hunting today.
She was tired of crying; tired of being sick in body, as well as in heart. She was tired of being bossed around by Frederic, by her father, as well as by Maximillian and his mistress. Indeed, she was tired.
Venturing into the dining hall where Maximillian and his paramour, Sheila, were dining, there also were present her father, her mother, Frederic, Frederic's wife, Marsha, and their daughter, Maria. Briella heard the cackle of laughter and the smooth undertones of a masculine voice, recognizing the pitch as her father's.
Looking down at herself in her outfit of Pikuni and cowgirl, she wondered briefly at the reception she would receive upon entering the room. Envisioning what their response mightbe, she smiled. The deep brown of her buckskin skirt was fringed on the bottom by the same material and fell to the upper edge of her high-topped moccasins that were laced up all the way to their upmost point, hitting just below her knees. Covering the skirt from the top to the bottom and resting slightly above the fringe were two-inch bands of blue, pink, red, orange and white seed beads that were sewn in geometric designs of triangles and circles, and then stitched into the skirt. She had personally beaded both of those bands and had seamed the bands into the skirt with her own hand.
She wore a long-sleeved and solid off-white color linen blouse, with a vest added atop it. The vest was made of the same dark-brown buckskin as her skirt, and it had shoulder straps with the same beaded colors and designs as the bands on her skirt, these extending from her shoulders to just above her breasts. Those shoulder bands, too, were fringed at their outside corners, but this particular fringe consisted of beads that clicked together, creating a pretty kind of sound with her every step. She had covered her hands with buffalo-hide gloves, each with a wrist cuff of beads and leather. She wore a leather belt around her waist, it being also carefully beaded, but it was different from those most women wore. Also attached around her waist was a holster conveniently set for the ease of drawing her pistol from its containment.
She wore a dark-brown colored ribbon around her neck and a cowgirl hat on her head with a two-inch beaded band around its crown. This particular hat band, too, was beaded in the same colors and designs as those on her skirt and vest. In her arms, she carried the ever-necessary self-preservation piece of equipment: her repeating rifle.
Her long dark-red hair was braided Pikuni style on each side of her face, and upon her lips, she hoped, was a self-satisfied smile.
Just let them try to make fun of and to boss me around today.
