Brave Warrior (11 page)

The plan was to surprise the Comanche.

Felix tried to listen hard as Curly explained the way they would ride up on them from over the hill, how the first one to touch a Comanche with his coup stick was the bravest warrior.

“Remember,” he told Felix, “only three other men can touch same enemy.”

“I really don’t think I’ll be touching anyone,” Felix said, but Curly was already moving away from him.

“Actually,” Felix called to Curly’s back, “I don’t really feel comfortable on this horse by myself.”

It was no use.

Everyone was ready, and Felix could not figure out a way to stay behind. He considered just turning around and hightailing it out of there, but by now he was surrounded by excited, eager, bare-chested guys on horseback. Most of them had feathers in their
long hair, and they all swung their coup sticks in the air. At least they wouldn’t be shooting bows and arrows, he thought. But then a worse idea hit him. The Lakota weren’t going to use bows and arrows. But that didn’t mean the Comanche weren’t.

Alone in the tepee, Maisie took the long red-tailed hawk feather from her pocket. She supposed they were meant to give it to Curly. If she was right, once they did that, they would go back to Newport. For Maisie, back to being a social outcast. At least here Felix was forced to be with her. At home he would get swallowed up by his friends. Everyone at Anne Hutchinson Elementary School would continue adoring him for his skills on the baseball field and his role as class president. All the while, Maisie would stay invisible, unnoticed, ignored.

What if I just hide the feather for a little while?
she wondered. Maybe she could have a real talk with Felix about how she felt. She didn’t think she could convince him that Bitsy Beal and her crew were shallow and mean, but she might be able to remind him that his loyalties belonged with her, not them. Weren’t they twins, after all? Before they were born,
they’d curled around each other, heartbeat to heartbeat. Their mother had a sonogram picture of them holding hands in the womb, first and only best friends.

Maisie’s eyes darted around the tepee. There was no place to really hide anything. And the Lakota did not have many belongings. But then she saw a small rawhide bag hanging from one of the poles. It had long fringe at the bottom, and a diamond pattern painted across it.

She took it down from the pole and opened the drawstrings at the top. Inside she found an elaborately carved pipe; two large, yellowed animal teeth; and a brown-and-white feather.

“Perfect,” Maisie said out loud, tucking the red-tailed hawk feather into the bag with the other things and returning it to its spot on the pole.

No one would look in there for anything, she thought, satisfied. And when the time came, she would take the red-tailed hawk feather out, give it to Curly, and go home.

Felix and his horse were swept up in the movement of the other horses, racing across the
grasslands, beneath the white stone hills. They moved as if they were one unit. No one slowed or paused, but rather everyone surged forward. Clouds of dust, kicked up by the horses, filled Felix’s eyes and nose, blurring his vision. With his eyes tearing and his nose running, they moved down a hill and then came surging up the other side, into a group of surprised Comanche.

Almost immediately, Curly touched one of them with his coup stick, causing a roar of excitement to rise among the Lakota. Inspired, they moved through the Comanche, coup sticks flying.

Frightened, Felix watched the looks of surprise on the faces of those who got touched, followed by cries of anger. He knew he was expected to do something, to raise his stick and move toward the enemy. But he was too scared to even try.

Just then, a Comanche on horseback came face-to-face with Felix, his black eyes blazing.

He shouted something that Felix could not understand.

Felix lifted his hands in surrender, the way people did in the movies.

But apparently that was not a universal signal.
As he lifted his hands, the Comanche raised his bow and easily pulled an arrow from the rawhide quiver slung over his shoulder.

“Wait!” Felix said. “This means I give up!”

He waved his hands frantically.

The Comanche’s gaze did not waver from Felix, even as he slid an arrow into the bow.

He was so close that Felix could easily make out the glint of the sharp point and see the feathers on the other end.

Suddenly, he remembered his coup stick, which dangled limply from his hand. With every bit of energy he could muster, he lifted it and touched the Comanche on the arm.

Felix’s heart pounded with a mix of terror and pride. He pressed his knees hard into the horse, sending it galloping forward and away. It took Felix a moment to realize the loud cry of triumph he heard was actually coming from him.

The sound of hooves pounding up beside him made him glance over to find Curly, sitting tall on his own horse, grinning.

“White boy made first coup,” Curly said, impressed.

“I did?” Felix asked.

“Highest honor,” Curly said.

They held each other’s gaze long enough to acknowledge Curly’s newfound respect for Felix.

Then, urging his horse to go even faster, Felix bent low and held on to its neck as the wind whistled around him.

First coup,
he thought.
Highest honor.

“What are you doing?” Maisie asked Curly’s father.

Worm did not stop piling sod when he answered, “Building a sweat lodge.”

“Like a sauna?” Maisie asked.

Worm looked at her and shrugged. “For purification,” he said.

“Purification of what?”

Worm sighed. “You ask too many questions,” he said gently. He wiped his hands on his shirt.

“Very important for boys to go on vision quest,” he explained, lowering himself to the ground.

He tapped the spot beside him for Maisie to sit. When she did, he continued.

“He purifies in sweat lodge, then goes off alone
for four days with no food or water. Hopefully, a vision will come to him. The shaman interprets this vision, which will give the boy direction. It will show him what he must do in his life.”

Maisie grabbed Worm’s hand. “I want to go on a vision quest,” she said urgently.

He smiled. “Only boys.”

“But I need direction,” Maisie pleaded. “I need help.”

“Girls don’t go alone,” Worm told her. “Someone from the tribe has to go with her. And she must eat and drink. She must work, too. Then the shaman tells her what her spirit guide is before her ceremony.”

“Yes,” Maisie said. “A spirit guide is exactly what I need.”

Worm nodded. “This is done before the girl gets married.”

“Married!” Maisie exclaimed. “I’m only twelve years old!”

Worm nodded again. “Women help prepare you with fine new clothes and—”

“You don’t understand,” Maisie said. “I want to do it like the boys.”

Worm patted her hand. Then he stood and went
back to preparing the sweat lodge.

Frustrated, Maisie stomped away. But almost immediately she ran into Curly, who was walking quickly toward his father.

He ignored Maisie—
Of course,
Maisie thought as he hurried past her as if she wasn’t standing practically right in his way—and shouted to his father.

“There’s no time for that!”

Worm turned toward Curly, puzzled.

“There are white soldiers approaching,” Curly said. “We must move on.”

But Worm shook his head firmly. “You must have your vision quest.”

“It is different now, Father,” Curly said sadly.

“First, I will teach you. Then you will go in sweat lodge for purification.”

With each thing his father said, Curly’s jaw set even harder.

“Then,” Worm continued, “you will jump into the river. Then—”

“There’s no time!” Curly said, his voice hard and angry.

Felix came up beside Maisie, still beaming with accomplishment.

“I got a first coup,” he said, boasting. “Went right up to the scariest Comanche and—”

“Ssshhh,” Maisie ordered him.

“You need to find your spirit guide,” Worm was saying. “You need to find your way.”

“Fine,” Curly said. “I will go on my vision quest right now.”

“Now?” Worm said, surprised.

“I believe the Great Mystery will understand,” Curly said.

“What’s going on?” Felix whispered.

But Maisie didn’t answer.

“You are not ready now, son.”

“Watch me,” Curly said.

With that, he turned and began to walk off, away from his father and the village.

Maisie did not hesitate. If Curly could break all the rules and go off on his vision quest, then so could she.

C
urly spun around angrily.

“A vision quest is done alone,” he told Maisie. His hands made a shooing motion.

“I won’t bother you,” she said. “I need to know my life path, too,” she added.

“Your life path?” Curly spat. “You and your people will take our land. Kill our buffalo. Kill our people.”

“No!” Maisie said, shaking her head even though she knew that of course he was right. White settlers did take land and kill the buffalo. She shivered, remembering the attack at Yellow Feather’s village just a day ago.

“Leave me alone,” Curly said. He turned away from Maisie and continued to walk away.

Maisie looked around. The craggy white rocks jutted out of the ground, seeming to cut into the sky. It was so quiet here that she shivered again in the silence. She didn’t want to go back to the village, and she didn’t want to stay here alone. That meant she had to follow Curly, even if he didn’t like it.

She kept a good distance behind him as he moved swiftly through the trees. Eventually, Curly came to a stop. Maisie watched him survey the area around him. Satisfied, he sat on the ground, his back straight, his head held high. If this was where Curly believed he would have a vision, then Maisie believed she would get one here, too.

She sat on the warm grass and waited.

After only ten minutes, Maisie heard twigs snapping behind her. Could this be her spirit guide already? she wondered eagerly.

Slowly, she turned to see what her spirit guide was. She imagined a wolf, a snake, an owl.

But instead, she found Felix standing there, sweating and panting.

“Is this the spot?” he asked.

“People go on vision quests alone,” Maisie told him, disappointed.

“Really? Then why did you follow Curly?”

“Because I didn’t know where to go, that’s why,” Maisie said. She closed her eyes, pretending her brother hadn’t just showed up.

“I’ll just sit over there and wait for my vision,” Felix said.

Maisie peered out beneath her eyelids as Felix scampered off. She lost sight of him quickly. Good. He didn’t need a spirit guide or a vision to find out his life’s direction. His path was set: class president, Mr. Popularity, friend to everyone. She was the one who needed guidance, not Felix.

Minutes ticked away.

Then hours.

Maisie’s legs grew numb, and she stood to shake out the pins and needles. How would she ever last out here for four days like this?

The sun was getting low in the sky. Soon night would fall. It would be cold. And dark.