Dances With Wolves slept poorly that night. He cursed himself for being too excited to sleep. He knew that no decision would be rendered until the next day, and tomorrow seemed too far away. He slept for ten minutes and woke for twenty all through the night. Half an hour before dawn he finally gave it up and went down to the river to bathe.
The idea of waiting around camp for word was unbearable and he jumped at the chance when Wind In His Hair asked if he wanted to go on a buffalo scout. They ranged far to the east, and it was well into the afternoon before they were back in camp.
He let Smiles A Lot take Cisco back to the pony herd and, with his heart beating wildly, stepped into Kicking Bird’s lodge.
No one was there.
He was determined to wait until someone returned, but through the back wall he could hear women’s voices mixed with the clatter of work, and the longer he listened, the less he could imagine what was going on. Not many minutes passed before curiosity drove him outside.
Directly behind Kicking Bird’s home, a few yards from the arbor, he found Stands With A Fist and the medicine man’s wives putting the final touches on a newly erected lodge.
They were stitching the last of the seams and he watched them work for a few moments before he spoke.
“Where’s Kicking Bird?”
“With Ten Bears,” she said.
“I will wait for him,” said Dances With Wolves, turning to go.
“If you want,” she said, not bothering to look up from her work, “you can wait in here.”
She stopped to brush at the beads of sweat running along her temple and faced him.
“We make this for you.”
The talk with Ten Bears didn’t last long, at least the substance of it didn’t.
The old man was in a good mood. His long-suffering bones loved the hot weather, and though he wasn’t going, the prospects for a successful venture against the hated Pawnee delighted him. His grandchildren were round as butterballs from summer feasting, and all three of his wives had been especially cheerful of late.
Kicking Bird could not have picked a better time to see him about a delicate matter.
As the medicine man told him about Dances With Wolves’s request, Ten Bears listened impassively. He repacked his pipe before replying.
“You have told me what is in his heart,” the old man wheezed. “What is in yours?”
He offered Kicking Bird the pipe.
“My heart says he is too anxious. He wants too much, too soon. He is a warrior, but he is not a Comanche. He will not be a Comanche for a while.”
Ten Bears smiled.
“You always speak well, Kicking Bird. And you see it well.’
The old fellow lit the pipe and passed it over.
“Now tell me,” he said, “what is it that you would like my advice on?”
It was a terrible letdown at first. The only thing he could compare it to was a reduction in rank. But it was more disappointing than that. He had never been so disappointed.
And yet he was shocked at how quickly the hurt of it passed. It was gone almost as soon as Kicking Bird and Stands With A Fist left the lodge.
He lay on the new bed in his new home and wondered about this change. It had only been minutes since he got the word, but he wasn’t crushed at all now. It was a tiny disappointment now. It’s something to do with being here, he thought, being with these people. It’s something to do with being unspoiled. Kicking Bird had done everything very precisely. He came trailed by the two women carrying robes, Stands With A Fist and one of his wives.
After they’d made up the new bed the wife had departed, and the three, Kicking Bird, Stands With A Fist, and Dances With Wolves, had stood facing one another in the center of the tipi.
Kicking Bird never made mention of the raid or the decision that had gone against him. He just started talking.
“It would be good if you make talk with Stands With A Fist while I’m gone. You should do this in my lodge so that my family can see. I want them to know you while I’m gone and I want you to know them. I will feel better to know that you are looking after my family while I’m away. Come to my fire and eat if you are hungry.”
Once the invitation to dinner was made, the medicine man turned abruptly and left, Stands With A Fist following him.
As he watched them go, Dances With Wolves was surprised to feel his depression evaporating. In its place was a feeling of elation. He didn’t feel small at all. He felt bigger.
Kicking Bird’s family would be under his protection, and the idea of serving them in that role was one he looked forward to instantly. He would be with Stands With A Fist again and that, too, gave him heart.
The war party would be gone for some time, thus giving him the opportunity to learn a lot of Comanche. And in learning he knew he would be picking up more than language. If he worked very hard he would be on a whole new level by the time his mentors returned. He liked that idea.
Drums had started up in the village. The big send-off dance was beginning and he wanted to go. He loved the dancing.
Dances With Wolves rolled off the bed and looked around his lodge. It was empty, but before long it would hold the slim trappings of his life, and it was pleasant to think about having something to call his own again.
He stepped through the lodge flap and paused in the twilight outside. He had daydreamed his way past dinner, but the woodsmoke from the cooking fires was still thick in the air and the smell of it satisfied him.
A thought came to Dances With Wolves then.
I should be staying here, he said to himself, it’s much the better idea.
He started off toward the sound of the drums.
When he reached the main avenue he fell in with a pair of warriors he knew. In signs they asked him if he would dance tonight. Dances With Wolves’s reply was so positive that it made the men laugh.
CHAPTER XXV
Once the party was away, the village settled into a life of pastoral routine, a timeless rotation of dawn to day to dusk to night that made the prairie seem the only place on earth.
Dances With Wolves fell quickly into step with the cycle, moving through it in a pleasant, dreamlike way. A life of riding and hunting and scouting was physically taxing, but his body had adapted well, and once the rhythm of his days was established he found most activities effortless.
Kicking Bird’s family required much of his time. The women did virtually all of the work around camp, but he felt obliged to monitor their day-to-day lives and those of the children, the result being that somehow his hands were always full.
Wind In His Hair had presented him with a good bow and a quiver of arrows at the farewell dance. He was thrilled with the gift and sought out an older warrior named Stone Calf, who taught him the finer points of its use. In the space of a week the two became fast friends, and Dances With Wolves showed up regularly at Stone Calf’s lodge.
He learned how to care for and make quick repairs on weapons. He learned the words to several important songs and how to sing them. He watched Stone Calf make fire from a little wooden kit and saw him make his own personal medicine.
He was a willing pupil for these lessons and quick to learn, so quick that Stone Calf gave him the nickname Fast. He scouted a few hours each day, as did most of the other men. They went out in groups of three or four, and in a short time Dances With Wolves had a rudimentary knowledge of necessary things, like how to read the age of tracks and determine weather patterns.
The buffalo came and went in their mysterious way. Some days they would see none at all, and some days they would see so many that it became a joke.