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“Dancing Fire, a woman of much strength and courage, who not long ago lost her husband in the thrashing waves of the river during a sudden storm, has lost now not only her husband, but also her sons,” Wolf Hawk said, finding those words so hard to say, and even harder to bear. “Eagle Bear and Little Bull. They did not return home as they usually did after a day of hunting small game. Their mother came to me with much concern in her heart. I took many warriors into the forest and began a search for them. It took us much farther from our village than the young braves were allowed to travel. They disobeyed their elders, and they found more than game. They found the traps of white hunters. When they stepped into the traps, they could not escape them. Their life’s blood left their bodies through the wounds on their ankles. My warriors and I found them lying in their own blood, their eyes locked in death stares.”
Wolf Hawk rarely heard his old Shaman grandfather gasp in horror, but he did now.
He looked quickly up at Talking Bird, seeing tears flowing from his old eyes.
“You feel it, too, the same as I,” Wolf Hawk said, lowering his eyes. “Such a heavy heart I feel. Such loss!”
“It is not for you to feel the guilt that I know you are carrying within your heart,” Talking Bird finally said. He again gently patted his grandson on the knee. “What you have told me is news that eats away at my very soul, and yours, but it is done and you must move on to the next day and be prepared for whatever else the Earthmaker above has for you. Sadness or happiness. It comes as it is given to you. Today sadness came and it shall stay for a while among our people. Even after the youths are prepared for burial and placed in the ground with final prayers said over them, there will be sadness. But you must look forward to better times. You cannot change what has already happened. But you can prepare for what might happen next, be it good, or bad. Only the Earthmaker knows.”
“I feel such guilt for having allowed this to happen,” Wolf Hawk said, swallowing hard. “I do feel that I should have done more than I did to ensure the safety of our children.”
“You said that the two braves wandered farther than where they were taught to venture?” Talking Bird said, searching Wolf Hawk’s tearful eyes.
“Ho, that is so,” Wolf Hawk said, slowly nodding.
“Then the fault lies not on your shoulders, but instead on the shoulders of those who did not obey the rules of our people,” Talking Bird went on, again patting Wolf Hawk on his knee. “Ho, I mourn for the deaths, but I also know that the braves brought their own deaths on themselves by not obeying rules they were taught from the moment they knew how to talk and walk.”
“But I had feelings of uneasiness,” Wolf Hawk said tightly. “Had I…”
“Do not speak with such guilt in your heart,” Talking Bird said, interrupting him. “You cannot be with all of the young braves at all times to see that they follow the rules laid down for them. You cannot follow every hint of danger that you feel. You have made a good home for your people on this piece of land. Until today, it has not been spoiled by the white man’s greed. You have seen that our people live in a peaceful setting beside the river. For now, this piece of land is ours.
“You have made wise rules for our people to live by. If some youths do not follow those rules, you are not to blame.”
“My guilt has been eased by your guidance and kind words, but it is now my place to find the ones who are guilty—the trappers,” Wolf Hawk said firmly. “But there is always the fear of bringing trouble into our people’s lives if the white government discovers that we have taken vengeance.”
“A man has the right to go on the warpath if one of his people has been wrongfully killed,” Talking Bird said as he drew his hand back beneath his blanket. “I know that the need for vengeance is strong inside your heart. Do what you must, and I tell you now that no white man will stand in your way. I will make it so, my grandson. I will make it so.”
“I followed the tracks of the two hunters, which led me to the river. There they stopped,” Wolf Hawk said, sighing. “And, earlier, I found horses tied up by a stream. These trappers did not come to our land by boat, so how could they disappear at the river if they did not have a boat to carry them away?”
“Whites can be clever,” Talking Bird said, his voice drawn. “But I know they cannot wave a hand in the air and magically summon a boat to travel on.”
“Then where do you think they are?” Wolf Hawk asked, again searching his old grandfather’s eyes.
“I cannot say, but I can tell you this. You will eventually have them to do with as you please,” Talking Bird said flatly. “Go. Search again. Be patient. Even if it takes you many sunrises and sunsets, in time you will find these men and your vengeance will finally be achieved.”
“But what do you suggest that I do?” Wolf Hawk asked.
“The search for the wrongdoers might take much longer than you wish it to take, but in time, it will be the killers who will step into a trap,” Talking Bird said, slowly smiling. His eyes twinkled as he gazed into Wolf Hawk’s. “This trap I speak of will not be the sort that killed the young braves, but one that will assure your vengeance.”
Again he reached out fr
om beneath his blanket and patted Wolf Hawk on the knee. “Be patient,” he softly advised. “Be patient, for it will happen, my grandson.”
They embraced, then Wolf Hawk returned home. As he reached his own lodge, he realized there was one more chore left to be done. The deadly traps were piled up outside the entranceway of his tepee. He had promised his warriors that he, himself, would dispose of them.
He put all of the traps into a canoe, then boarded it himself. He lifted his paddle and guided the canoe out to the center of the river, where the water ran deepest. One by one he threw the traps overboard, until there were none left.
The water was now quiet as the moon painted its glow on the surface, spreading its light over the ripples in the wake of Wolf Hawk’s canoe as he headed back toward shore.
He smiled at the knowledge that those traps would never be used again by the hunters.
“Now to make you pay for your crime,” he whispered.
Chapter Nine
Many a man is making friends with death,
Even as I speak—
