Johnny Hunter Page 2

  Logan Badger slowly walked through the crowd. In spite of the cold, Logan was not wearing a shirt as he approached Gray Man. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Logan, bring the child to me,” Gray Man said.

  Logan waved his hand to the back of the crowd and two Cheyenne men, wearing their hair in braids, strode forward, carrying a small girl with black hair on a stretcher. Her brother walked next to the litter, holding the girl’s hand. Setting the stretcher beside the fire, the two braves retreated into the crowd.

  Johnny watched as his grandfather stood over the girl. “What the heck’s going on?” he wondered, trying to see the girl’s face from the rocks.

  “What is her name?” Gray Man asked the boy.

  “Susan,” the boy said, quietly.

  “No, her Cheyenne name.”

  “Naka.”

  “Ah, Naka, the she-bear, a good name. How long has she been sick?” Gray Man placed his wrinkled hands on the girl’s forehead.

  “For about two months, Gray Man. She got sick on her seventh birthday back in September, and she hasn’t been well since then. She can’t eat and she’s real weak, but the agency doctor says he can’t find anything wrong with her. Mom’s worrying herself sick, too.” The boy’s eyes were misty, wet with tears.

  “Do your parents know you have brought her to me?” Gray Man asked.

  “Mom does,” the boy said, his voice cracking slightly. “Dad says your medicine is a bunch of crap, but Mom got my uncles to bring us here anyway.”

  Gray Man patted the youth’s head with his large hands. “Go and sit with your uncles. I will do what I can to heal Naka.”

  Kneeling next to the girl, Gray Man dipped his fingers into two small clay pots. Then, as he painted a red and yellow stripe down the girl’s face, he began chanting words that Johnny had never heard before.

  Jeez, Johnny thought, Grandfather’s a medicine man. All this time living with him and I never knew it.

  Gray Man stood over the girl and covered her with the white buffalo robe. He picked up a small drum decorated with large white and brown feathers. He started pounding on the drum while he slowly danced in a circle around the stretcher. Moving near the center, the medicine chief threw sand-like powder into the fire, which flared up in a large fireball that lit the sides of the canyon. Gray Man then picked up a turtle shell rattle and knelt down again. Shaking the rattle over the sick child, he shouted to the stars.

  “Mistah, be gone! Leave this little one and go back to the depths of the earth that is your home. By the power of Vosta, the sacred white buffalo, I command you to leave the girl.”

  The three drummers started pounding the big drums again, and Gray Man jumped up and resumed his dancing. He slowly circled the sick girl, chanting to each of the four directions. When he faced east again, he threw more powder into the fire, and once more, it flashed brightly against the canyon walls. As the drumbeat slowed down, Gray Man started to stagger. The old man stepped backward and fell to the ground. His body grew stiff, jerking slightly as his eyes rolled back in his head, only the whites visible. The drums stopped but no one moved to help him.

  “Grandfather!” Johnny shouted, standing up on the rocks. “What’s wrong?”

  He slid down the boulders and landed on his feet on the ground, quickly running through the crowd. He felt the blood rising in his face. “What’s the matter with everybody?” Johnny yelled. “Somebody help him. He’s had a heart attack or something worse.”

  None of the Cheyenne moved.

  Johnny pushed through the crowd and bent over Gray Man. “Grandfather, can you hear me? It’s Hunter.”

  He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. “Don’t worry. He is okay,” Logan whispered to him in a hoarse voice. He held Johnny close to him. “Gray Man is in the spirit world now, but he is fine. He will return to us quickly.”

  As soon as Logan stopped speaking, Gray Man suddenly sat upright, spread his arms, and fell back on the dirt. Rolling over on his stomach, his breathing relaxed and he opened his eyes. The old man struggled to his feet. His face showed no surprise when he saw Johnny. He looked past him for the sick girl’s brother.

  “Come,” Gray Man called, waving to the boy, “your sister is well. In my vision, I saw the evil monster Mistah chased from her body by the sacred buffalo Vosta. She is no longer sick.”

  The crowd, which had been watching Gray Man intently, turned to the litter. A buzz of excited voices raced through the Cheyenne.

  The girl sat up and looked around, her dark eyes opened wide. She pulled her blanket over her shoulders and smiled at her brother. “It’s okay, Naka,” he said. “We brought you here so that the medicine of Gray Man would cure you.”

  She smiled weakly and brushed her tangled black hair from her eyes. “I—I’m so hungry. Is there anything to eat?”

  The Cheyenne crowd laughed and closed in around Gray Man, shaking his hand and patting him on the back. Johnny’s grandfather clasped their arms and laughed with them.

  “Enough of this,” he shouted, raising his hand. “Let’s dance to show Maheo how grateful we are for his blessings.”

  The drums started again, and the Cheyenne began dancing, shouting, and whooping as they shuffled around the fire. Johnny watched the girl, her brother, and their uncles walk through the dancers toward the canyon entrance, knowing he had seen her cured but still not believing his eyes.

  Gray Man put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mom sent me after you for supper,” he said, “but I can see you wouldn’t have come home anyway. Do you come here a lot?”

  “Often enough,” Gray Man said. “Will you tell your father what you saw? He will be very angry.”

  “Angry ain’t the word for it. If he found out I stayed and watched this dance, he’d pound my tail good for me. No, I don’t think I’ll tell him. Besides, he wouldn’t believe you cured a sick girl anyway.”

  “Do you believe I cured her?” Gray Man asked. As he spoke, the gray in his eyes reflected the blazing fire. Johnny was not sure if the fire was merely a reflection.

  “I believe it, I guess, but I sure don’t understand it. How can shaking a rattle and singing a song make someone well? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Gray Man frowned at him. “It makes sense to these Cheyenne.” He waved his arm across the dancers. “The spirit world cured her because these people believe in our old way of life. Perhaps someday you too will believe.”

  “I’d like to. You sure have sold all these people on your medicine.”

  “It would make my heart soar if my only grandson believed in me and the ancient Cheyenne ways. But it grows late. You had better go home now, Little Hunter, and tell your parents that you couldn’t find me.”

  Johnny brushed the hair back out of his eyes and crossed his arms in front of him. “I’ll go if you want me to, but what I’d really like to do is try dancing a little bit. Is that okay?” he asked. He was already bouncing his feet to the drumbeat. “I won’t stay long.”

  Gray Man’s eyes shone through the deep wrinkles on his face as he broke into a grin that covered his entire face. “Go dance, Hunter,” he said, placing both hands on his grandson’s shoulders, “and may the bones of our fathers fill your heart with Cheyenne spirit from the past.”

  Johnny ran into the dancing circle and let the beat of the drums flow into him. Feeling strange at first, he soon forgot about everything but the drums and chants, and he danced around the fire. He found himself next to another young Cheyenne whose hair was braided with two eagle feathers. The boy’s face was painted orange.

  “Good to see you here, Johnny,” the boy finally said in a voice that sounded familiar.

  Johnny looked closer at him. “I don’t believe my eyes,” he shouted. “It’s Richard Amos!”

  THE NEXT MORNING Johnny woke up with a smile, remembering the night before when he danced the old dances with his grandfather and Richard Amos. He couldn’t believe that so many o
f the Northern Cheyenne came to the ceremony to chant the old songs and dance to them. He could still feel the excitement of that unbelievable night. He did feel a little regret for telling his parents he didn’t find Gray Man. Minatare had been worried because he was gone for a long time. Billy Hunter had fallen asleep long before his return.

  Johnny always slept in on Saturday mornings, so he rolled over and pulled the blanket over his shoulders, hoping to fall back to sleep. But the bright glare shining through his window made it hard to sleep. He finally crawled out of bed and opened the shade. A winter wonderland greeted him. A heavy snow had fallen during the night. The sun reflected off the whiteness of the snow, and ice covered the window. He drew a smiling face on the windows, the warmth of his fingers melting the ice.

  He dressed quickly, used the bathroom, and walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mom.” He sat down at the table. “Dad still sleeping?”

  Minatare shook her head, frowning. “Yeah, he fell asleep watching the TV and was barely able to get up and go to bed.” She took a pause. “He finished that bottle of whiskey.” She placed a steaming bowl of oatmeal and a cold glass of milk on the table in front of Johnny.

  “Thanks, Mom.” He drank half the glass of milk. “Dad’s drinking worries me. It’s bad enough when he drinks here, but when he drives home from Rosie’s Bar, it scares me even more.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve asked him hundreds of times to stop going off the reservation to drink at the bar, but he just gets mad at me. So I quit asking.” Minatare poured hot water over a tea bag and sat down next to Johnny. She squeezed his hand. “What are you up to today?”

  Johnny ate a spoonful of oatmeal before answering. “Sled riding. I’m going to get Richard and Bobbie to go. Richard’s got an old truck inner tube and a Flexible Flyer sled. It should be a great day for some fun in the snow.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Old Man’s Hill. It’s a long, fast ride to the bottom. That truck tube will be fun and throw us all over the place.”

  “Isn’t there another name for that hill?”

  Johnny smiled. “Yeah, Mom, it’s called Dead Man’s Hill.”

  Minatare wrinkled her brow. “You be extra careful. There’s a big basketball game next week, and you won’t be able to play if you’re hurt.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” He stood up, kissed her on the top of her head, and then placed his bowl and glass in the sink.

  Johnny dressed quickly, pulling on two pair of pants and his goulashes, snapping closed the metal clasps. He put on his sheepskin jacket and pulled a cap down over his ears and walked out of his room to his mother, who was at the sink washing dishes.

  “Bye, Mom.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful.”

  She turned and hugged him. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

  The cold air welcomed him as he opened the cabin door; the bright sun hit the snow and made him squint. He entered the horse shed. Using a pitchfork, he threw hay into the horses’ stalls. While Thunder ate, Johnny brushed his horse’s long winter coat. Horsehair flew everywhere, the sunshine coming in through the windows making them shine and flutter as he finished brushing.

  “You ready, boy?”

  Thunder pushed his head over the gate and snorted as Johnny pulled the bridle off a nail. He slid it easily over the horse’s head and into his mouth. Opening the creaking gate, he walked Thunder out of the shed and mounted him without a saddle.

  Leaning down so his face was next to Thunder’s ear, he whispered, “C’mon Thunder, let’s go have some fun.”

  Thunder trotted briskly down the snow-covered driveway and automatically turned up the road toward the Amos house. Despite the cold, Johnny loved every minute of the short trip to Richard’s.

  Richard opened the front door and waved. “I thought you might be coming. While I get more clothes on, why don’t you get our horse and hook her up to the old hay wagon. We’ll need it to carry the inner tube and sled. I filled it with air last week, hoping for a big snow.” His breath clouded up as he spoke.

  “Can do, “Johnny answered. The gray horse, named Maggie, had pulled the wagon many times, and Johnny quickly got reins on her. In a few minutes, Richard came out and they threw the truck inner tube and sled in the wagon bed.

  “Let’s go get Bobbie. I called him and he said he’ll go.”

  “Great!” Johnny shouted. “He can ride in the wagon with you. I’m riding Thunder. Does Bobbie know about the Cheyenne dancing going on?”

  “He’s never been there and none of his family comes. I hear his father is like your dad. Pretty much walk the white man’s road.”

  “Okay. I guess it’s best not to say anything about last night.”

  “I agree,” Richard said. He climbed in the wagon and drove down the driveway to the road.

  Mrs. Amos stood in the front door, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “You boys be careful,” she hollered as they rode past her. Richard waved to his mother, and the two young Cheyenne headed slowly toward Bobbie’s house.

  After picking up Bobbie, they made their way on the snow-covered road until they reached Dead Man’s Hill. It loomed above them, and they were happy to see no one else there. Johnny slid off Thunder’s back and tied him to the rusted wagon wheels with a long rope so he could find grass under the snow.

  “Let’s go,” Richard shouted, and they began the long, difficult climb to the hilltop. Johnny and Bobbie carried the inner tube and Richard drug the sled behind him. Huffing and puffing by the time they got to the top, they sat down on the tube and rested. The hill was a good hundred yards long and would get faster the more times they slid down it.

  The sled kept sinking in the new snow, so they all climbed onto the inner tube, pushed it to get it started, and quickly raced down the hill. The cold wind whipped their faces red, but Johnny and his friends laughed all the way down. They bounced wildly as the tube picked up speed and, on a big rise, Richard got tossed off. The two remaining boys laughed even harder, and the truck tube came to a rest near their wagon. Richard stood up, ran down the hill, and fell in the snow next to them. Snow covered him from head to toe.

  “That was great!” he shouted. “Let’s go again!”

  They dragged the tube slowly up the hill until they reached the top, where they collapsed in the snow. They were breathing hard and clapping their hands together for warmth. Bobbie climbed onto the inner tube, followed by Richard, and Johnny pushed them until it started to slide on its own. Johnny jumped on, pulling on Richard and wrapping his arms around his friends as they sped to the hill’s bottom once again.

  When the inner tube slowed and finally stopped, they fell off into the snow, still laughing and shouting. By the third time down the hill the snow was packed tightly, and they had to dive off before it crashed into the wagon.

  Soon they were able to use the sled. They took turns riding it and they raced against the giant tube. The two boys on the inner tube always won. The winter sun rose higher in the sky, and they took a longer time before climbing the hill for another ride.

  “I’m getting hungry,” Bobbie said.

  “And I’m getting cold,” Richard shouted through his gloves.

  “One more time?” Johnny said. “Then we can go home. Do you think your mom will have soup waiting for us, Richard?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Slowly, they trudged up the hill and sat and rested for a few minutes. “Let’s all go in the tube,” Bobbie said. “It’ll be faster and we can pull the sled behind us.”

  The three Cheyenne boys once again flew down the hill, faster than ever, and they yelled and hooted all the way. As the tube neared the wagon, they were going much too fast to stop without hitting it.

  “Jump!” Johnny shouted and they rolled off the tube into the snow. They watched as the inner tube slammed into the wagon and stopped. The sled continued on a wild ride and almost hit Thunder, who scrambled to get out of the way. It finally stopped abo
ut twenty feet later, coming to rest against a small mound.

  “Wow!” Richard shouted. “That was the most fun yet.” Still laughing, Bobbie and Richard walked toward the wagon, and Johnny ploughed his way through the deep snow to Thunder.

  “You okay, boy?” He patted his horse on the neck and mane and reached to grab the long rope. His eye caught sight of something sticking out of the small mound next to Thunder.

  A frozen hand, black and withered, stuck out of the snow.

  Johnny walked over to the arm and knelt down. He brushed the snow away to reveal a plaid shirt and a handmade bead bracelet. He trembled.

  “Richard! Bobbie!” he shouted. “Come over here quick.”

  The two boys looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders. “What is it?” Bobbie shouted.

  “Just get over here! You guys got to see this.”

  Richard and Bobbie ran as quickly as they could through the heavy snow.

  Johnny stopped them short of the frozen hand by spreading his arms to block them. When they stopped, he pointed to the arm sticking out of the snow.

  “Holy shit!” Richard shouted. “What is that?”

  “It’s an arm, you idiot.”

  “I know. I know. It’s just unbelievable.”

  Johnny walked around to the other side of the snow mound. He brushed more snow off the arm. “What do you think we should do?”

  Both his friends looked at each other, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders. “I don’t know,” Richard said. “We have to call the BIA, I guess.”

  “I know that, but do we just let him lie there? Maybe the coyotes will find the body and start eating him.”

  All three of them slowly walked around the arm, bending down to get a closer look. “What do you think happened to him?” Bobbie asked.