Agaidika had outlived everyone she loved, including her own children, and the many years alone had brought her the kind of wisdom that is born of having no sympathy for anyone or thing. At the opposite end of the circle were young women, only a few years older than Thasuka Witko’s oldest, Haienwa’tha. They held babies to their young, full breasts then bounced them on their knees, trying to keep them silent when the Chief made ready to speak.
Thasuka Witko spoke directly to Agaidika, loud enough for her deaf ears to hear, but also for his sons, who hid nearby so that they might listen and learn. He had done the same when Hoka-Psice went before the old woman, and he would not have bet that she would not still be alive long after he too joined the Great Spirit. “Mahpiya has told me that there are bad signs coming from the West. He claims a great evil comes to those lands, with wicked medicine to destroy the Wasichu who live there.”
Agaidika smacked her toothless gums together like she was chewing her words before she leaned forward and squinted at the Chief in the dim firelight. “Why should the People concern themselves with the Wasichu? If anything, we should celebrate their demise.”
The rest of the women murmured in agreement, and Thasuka Witko said, “Hoka-Psice always admired you, Grandmother Agaidika. He said if you had been born a man, you would have made a formidable General. You have guided our people for many years, and I value your counsel. I intend to lead a scouting party west to determine if this evil poses a threat to us.”
The women closed in around Agaidika. Each of them took turns whispering in her hairy ear. Thasuka Witko wrapped a blanket around his shoulders while he waited for an answer and walked away from the circle, toward the shadows where he saw two pairs of dark feet standing under a bush. Haienwa’tha whispered, “Why do you even have to consult with them? You are the Chief. They are only women.”
Thasuka Witko chuckled and said, “I once asked the same exact question of Hoka-Psice. I expect that your sons will someday ask you the same. This is what I was told: A Chief of the tribe gives the orders, but it is the women who enforce them, or see to it that they are not enforced at all.”
When he walked back, the women were separated from Agaidika and waiting for him to sit down. The old woman said, “It does us no good to endanger the lives of our brave warriors on something that is not of our concern. If Thasuka Witko insists on interfering in the concerns of the Wasichu, let the new Ayawisgi go.”
“I said I was going to lead the party.”
Agaidika smiled with a mouthful of rotten teeth and said, “You have said what you said, and so have I.”
The women withdrew from the fire, and Thasuka Witko stood up and called out to Haienwa’tha to bring the warriors of the tribe to him. Soon, the men were advancing up the hill toward the fire, talking amongst themselves excitedly about the upcoming battle. They boasted to one another about how many they would kill and the amount of scalps they would return with.
Thasuka Witko waited for them to gather around him before he said, “It is decided. All of us will remain here, except for the new Ayawisgi. They will ride west to act as our eyes and ears.”
There were responses of disbelief and anger at the women’s decision. The Chief held up his hand and said, “The point of the Ayawisgi is that they have proven themselves as warriors. What right do we have to question their abilities?”
Haienwa’tha stuck out his chest and said, “We will honor our ancestors and give all of you many things to sing about in our memory! When do we leave?”
Thasuka Witko looked at his son with concern and said, “Gather your things.”
The three boys hurried down the slope to return to camp. Osceola watched his son run and grunted with approval. “He is not afraid, even with only one arm.”
“Lakhpia-Sha is not going, old friend,” Thasuka Witko said. “He is too weak to ride.”
Osceola’s face twisted at the insult and he turned to his Chief and said, “My son is not weak. Be cautious with your words.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” Thasuka Witko said. “The scouting party is too small to send someone who is not healed. The old woman insists only the new Ayawisgi go, but according to the old laws, if one of them is not suited for the journey, I can select a replacement.”
Osceola nodded in understanding and said, “Do you have a replacement in mind?”
Thasuka Witko patted him on the arm and said, “There is only one man I would trust with the lives of my two remaining sons.”
Osceola bowed his head and said, “I will get my things ready.”
Mahpiya limped toward them and said, “I too will go with them.”
“The women’s council did not mention you, old man,” Thasuka-Witko said.
“This is true.”
“So I must forbid it.”
“Ah. Well then, so be it. In that case, I am going out to look for new herbs for the tribe and will most likely be gone awhile.”
“And just where will you be going to look for them?” Thasuka-Witko said.
The medicine man looked toward the west and said, “I think, in that direction.”
Charlie Boles Junior watched his father sit up in the hospital bed and said, “How does it feel?”
Boles braced his hand against the bandage around his thigh and said, “It hurts like hell, stupid. How much money do we have left?”
Junior reached into his pocket and took out the small fold of bills. “Not much. It cost a ton to get you fixed up. We have maybe enough to rent a room here long enough to find work.”
Boles snatched the money from his son’s hand and said, “Work? Go and find a sturdy mule that can carry us all the way to Seneca 6. Don’t buy nothing bow-legged now or I’ll make you sorry.”
“Why Seneca 6? We ain’t going looking for that man, are we?”
Boles’ eyes narrowed. “Just do what I tell you.”
Four days later, Charlie Boles Junior tapped his father on the arm and pointed up at the sky. A small transport vessel was descending from the clouds into a canyon, its thrusters popping jets of flame and smoke. Charlie Boles snapped the reins on their stolen, scraggly-legged mule, and headed toward the edge of the cliff to watch the ship’s landing gear extend as it lowered into the valley.
The boarding ramp extended and two uniformed Customs Agents carrying large rifles exited the ship. Little Willy Harpe and Hank Raddiger followed behind them. Little Willy surveyed the wreckage of a spaceship scattered around the canyon and said, “Go find that homing beacon and turn it off.”
He passed the burned out hull and pieces of engine to see a flock of black birds piled onto the carcass of a body, picking it clean. Harpe stomped his feet and chased the birds off, and as they fled from his approach, he saw that the body was missing a head.
Hank shouted, “Over here!” There was panic in Hank’s voice as Harpe walked around the wreckage toward him. Hank put up both hands to stop him and said, “Now calm down for a second, Willy. I don’t want you to get upset.”
Harpe shoved him aside, seeing nothing more than scattered ship parts and the burned out hull of a small spacecraft with a pole sticking out of it. Something was placed on top of the pole. Something that looked like it had hair that blew in the wind.
Little Willy stared at Elijah’s head, spiked on the pole. Elijah’s eyes were staring back at him as Little Willy reached up and grabbed the head by both sides and started to twist it free. It popped off with a sucking noise and Little Willy held the head between his hands and collapsed to his knees, screaming with such ferocity that Hank Raddiger’s insides felt wet. Hank kneeled in the dirt beside him and did not speak.