Ominous signs

          4^th of August                                    1865                                Wyoming territory

4th day of the Picking Moon,    32 summers after the stars fell      Northern Sutaio territory

Netséméóná'e [Eagle Road Woman] took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let her legs dangle idly while sitting bareback on Hevovetáso [Whirlwind], her favourite buffalo runner.

She loved the cool, misty atmosphere of the early morning. Soon the sun would rise far up in the cloudless summer sky, making this another hot day in the Powder River country. They had left camp before sunrise to go hunting but they hadn’t found any game yet. Netséméóná' didn’t mind looking further, provided they would search in the shade of the timbered hills.

She gazed at Aénȯhé'ke  [Hawk Woman] who was riding ahead. A loving smirk flashed across her face as she watched her young life companion. Aénȯhé'ke looked like a young lad from the South, a spoiled teenager, clad from head to mocassins in expensive vé’hó’e-trading cloth. She surely was her father’s favourite daughter, both a day-dreamer and a wild one. This was a dangerous phase in Aénȯhé'ke’s life. She was adequately eager to prove her worth in hunting and war, earn her eagle feathers. Last summer she had killed her first white soldier. She had scalped him. But most of the time she wouldn’t wear her feathers. She said that the enemy had been mortally wounded by  Netséméóná'e before she had finished him off and that she wouldn’t wear the feathers until she had earned another one in an even fight.

Netséméóná'e was glad that they had made it safely to the North Country last winter. So many terrible things had happened before in the South… She shook off the ugly images. Here in the North Country, they were safe. The whole people, apart from Black Kettle’s followers, were congregated here. Close to Nóávóse, the Sacred Mountain where the prophet Sweet Medicine had once  received the holy covenant from Ma’heo’ himself,  the Sacred Arrows had been renewed, as had the bond between Ma’heo’ and his people. The Cloud People [Arapahoe] and the Lakota were close by. Nobody would dare to molest them here, in the heart of the northern hunting grounds.

Strange only that they hadn’t seen any game for hours around here. As if all the game had been chased away by … only vé’hó’e could make so much noise as to scare away the game into every direction. Netséméóná'e brushed the silly idea aside. There had to be another reason. Maybe the Holy Persons were giving them a nudge. Maybe this day was too nice to be wasted on searching in vain for game. This was a perfect day for swimming in the river by the village, visiting friends, then relaxing in the shade of the lodge, enjoying the soft breeze under the rolled-up tepee covers. They would have some tasty buffalo stew, and then she would prepare a nice pipeful or two of Kinnikinnick with bear fat and berries. And then she would treat Aénȯhé'ke like a husband treated his favourite wife until the willow-bed would creak and squeak under the furs…

“Átahe!” [Look!]

Aénȯhé'ke’s sharp voice aroused Netséméóná'e from her day-dreaming. Aénȯhé'ke’s glid from her pony and looked into the grass. Those long furrows… where these from dragging travois poles? Immediately, Netséméóná' had a sinking feeling. The traces in the grass were too broad for that, and too regular… Aénȯhé'ke’s took her bow and poked for something in the grass. As she lifted it up, Netséméóná'e felt her heart plummeting into her breechclout.

She had seen these things the previous winter when they had raided Julesburg. They looked like solid blocks of metal. They had no sewing seams and they hadn’t been glued together. Astonishingly, they contained preserved food. Nobody knew how the food got into these things. They were hard to open. Only a knife or a hatchet would do the job. George Bent had showed her how to do it. The People called such a thing, for want of a better word, a tomȯsetohko, an erect container.

One thing was clear. Only vé’hó’e made these things, and only vé’hó’e could open them the way this one had been opened.  The thing looked rusty. It must have lain here for several days, exposed to rain and sun.

Netséméóná'e eyes darted around, suddenly nervously scanning the horizon and the edges of the nearby patches of timber. They had been invaded.


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