Writing for Fun
January 2018
Not What It Seems - Jeff Kebbell
Laughing Boy sang as he rode toward the Sioux village, the rope's end of the halter, his shoulders and song all moved together, life flowed in a single stream. He was slender, tall and handsome. Laughing Boy, with a new cheap headband and a borrowed silver belt to make ragged clothes look fine, he whooped and struck up the magpie song 'til the empty desert resounded. A cold sun, low in the evening sky, stared impassively down, scattered snow drifts formed the shapes that the Medicine Men divided upon whether to go into battle or not, life was good. He paused by a pool at his village and allowed his pony to drink. She had had two days of loping and needed rest. He dismounted and ran his hand down her withers feeling the lean sinuous muscle. She had the ugly Roman nose of character and was like an arrow notched to a taut bow string that a movement of the hand would release into level flight, swiftly to a mark.
'E-yoo! Laughing Boy, are you going to eat with your horse?' teased Jesting Squaw's son 'or will you eat with me?'
'Hakone, I will eat with you later, first I must see my father.' He went to the tepee of his father who was sitting outside. A bonfire flared to the left of him and seated around it were the elders, wrapped in their blankets, outlined against the night sky and nodding in time to the rhythm of a small drum.
His father looked up at him, his face lined by a thousand suns. 'You look puzzled my son. Is it possible you doubt tomorrow's outcome with Lone Wolf?'
'Yes, Father, I do not believe I can come first. He is stronger and faster than me.'
His Father looked reflectively at him. 'Is coming first, winning?'
'Of course it is, Father, if I am to become a member of the council and one of the chiefs of the Sioux, I must race Lone Wolf and beat him.'
His Father stared patiently at him. 'My son, there is much to learn but the man who wins is he who is at peace with himself, not necessarily the man who comes first.'
'Father, I know you are wise and often speak for the Council of the Elders, but you talk in riddles.'
His Father said nothing and Laughing Boy passed through the entrance of the tepee to put his arms round his mother, a Navaho who came with several blankets and ponies that gave Laughing Boy's Father, Chief Tall Hunter, his early status. Slim Girl, now plump, put her arms round her son, able to show the love that Tall Hunter could not. 'The Council will set a test that you can win,' she confided. 'The Sioux need a Navaho to lead them in peace. Lone Wolf is a good warrior but would not make a good chief.'
The tribe had Chiefs of War and Chiefs of Peace and when the battles finished the Men of Peace spoke. Lone Wolf was a warrior who had taken coup and was a formidable adversary. Laughing Boy was popular and kind to his mother but that held little sway with the Council whose decisions could cause the death of their tribe. A good Council and therefore a prosperous village had many dogs, a poor Council and a hungry village had none!
Laughing Boy slept in his parents' tepee that night and in the morning came before the tribe's Elders with Lone Wolf in order to decide his future. Red Shield, the head of the Council, explained, 'You will race around Maiden Rock, carrying a clay pot with embers of a fire you have made. He who returns and lights a fire with his embers first, will be elected as a new chief. May the spirits of our forefather guide you both.'
The two protagonists quickly made fires and when they were burning well put the embers into clay gourds held by a thong hung from their wrists and set out with a twenty mile run in front of them with the bitter winter their main adversary. Lone Wolf soon took the lead, swinging his pot of embers to keep them alight and glowing, setting into a rhythmic pace that ate up the miles. Laughing Boy was not far behind but, short of his rival falling and breaking a leg, the new chief was on his way to a seat on the Council.
After some seven miles, Lone Wolf was suddenly confronted by an old man who gaunt and badly clad, stood in the path ahead. 'Give me some fire, young man, for mine has gone out and my woman and I both freeze.' Lone Wolf hesitated but his duty was to the race and the Council. 'I am unable to help as I am on an errand of great importance – someone will come soon who will help you.' He raced on.
Laughing Boy was humming to himself as he ran until he too saw the old man on the trail ahead. 'Help me my son,' he said, 'for my fire has gone out and my woman and I both freeze.'
Laughing Boy groaned inwardly as he pulled up. This would finish his chances and the tribe would laugh as they did when he helped his mother. 'You do not know what this costs me Father,' he said as he went to the old couple's wigwam, where, having gathered twigs for tinder, he emptied the embers from his pot and soon had a blaze going. Seeing there was plenty of firewood, he repacked his gourd, cut short the old couple's thanks and with a wave set back on the trail around the massive wedge shaped mountain. He remembered why it was called Maiden Rock; before his father was born it was the customs of the women and young braves to climb to the ridge and watch the warriors return from battle. A young woman, seeing her brave was missing from the war party, cast herself from the rock to her death. Laughing Boy hoped he would find a woman like that one day, although Lone Wolf was more likely to get her with his new status.
To cheer himself, he started to compose a humorous song for the celebration camp fire that night to cover his disappointment. Soon he was chuckling. 'Jester Squaw's son will sing it with me and we will dance through the night and lose the memory of today.'
The miles ran past him when suddenly a young woman with a child slung on her hip appeared before him. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief when she made a similar request to that of the old couple. 'Yes, and why not? But where is your man?'
The squaw was vague, 'He went hunting for food two days ago and now my fire is out and my husband has the stones to light a new one.'
Laughing Boy emptied the embers from his pot into her fireplace and blew patiently onto the leaves and twigs until a good blaze was going, checked her woodpile, refilled his pot and raced on. Finally, his nose told him the village was near and he ran through the waiting tribe to the Council circle. There was no sign of Lone Wolf and the Elders sat impassively looking at him. 'Shall I make a fire?' he said.
'Can you?' said Red Shield.
There seemed little point but the ritual had to be observed and he emptied his pot of embers onto a small pile of twigs and blowing hard, soon produced a fire. He got to his feet and stood with his head hung low. 'Eeyi, we have a new chief,' said his friend, Jesting Squaw's son and raising his head he saw his father smiling and the other chiefs nodded their heads in apparent approval. No-one was laughing at him and his friend's slap on the back jarred his teeth.
'Laughing Boy,' said Red Shield, 'you showed compassion to people we left on the trail for you to meet. In lighting their fires, so was your own reborn. Lone Wolf's embers were as cold as his heart when he returned. He has no place on our Council. 'You are now a chief of the Sioux!'