Brave Warrior (8 page)

When Maisie landed, she opened her eyes and saw that she was staring up at an enormous, hairy, smelly animal. It stared back at her. It had big brown eyes with a long fringe of eyelashes around them. Although it was dark out, the full moon and a sky full of twinkling stars lit the night.

Maisie blinked.

She blinked again.

“Buffalo,” she said softly.

As soon as she said it, she realized that she wasn’t exactly seeing one buffalo. She was smack in the middle of hundreds of them. All around her, as far as she could see. Buffalo.

Slowly, Maisie got to her feet, trying to decide if buffalo were the type of animal that might charge a person, like bulls or moose. The air smelled like the monkey house at the Bronx Zoo, except worse. As hard as she tried to think, Maisie realized that she knew absolutely nothing about the temperament of buffalo.

She looked around for Felix, but he was nowhere in sight. Or at least, nowhere that she could see past the herd of shaggy beasts that surrounded her.
Maisie carefully made her way through the animals, squeezing in between them. The heat from their bodies, and her fear that at any moment they might decide to do something other than just stand there, made her sweat. One thing she knew for sure: A herd of buffalo sure did stink.

When Felix landed, he hit something hard and hairy, then fell from its great height, hard onto the grass. He looked down the full height of the thing, which was not at all happy about having a twelve-year-old boy drop out of nowhere onto its back. He had seen enough movies to know he was looking at a buffalo. An angry buffalo. The animal snorted and pawed the ground with its hooves. It dipped its head and snorted some more.

Felix rolled out of the way, right into another buffalo. In fact, there were buffalo as far as he could see. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.

“Sorry,” he said to the snorting one in front of him.

His voice sounded small in the vast night.

The buffalo pawed at the grass again, its hooves so close that Felix could see the bits of grass and dirt
stuck in them. If this buffalo charged, the whole herd might follow suit, he thought. But if Felix ran, would it follow him and start a stampede? Did buffalo stampede? Or was that just horses?

Felix got to his knees, carefully backing away from the buffalo and trying to avoid any of the other ones. They were standing pretty much shoulder to shoulder, which made it hard to maneuver. Felix couldn’t believe that just a couple of hours ago he’d been happily dancing the chicken dance with Lily Goldberg. Now here he was in the middle of a herd of buffalo, in the middle of who knows where, scared that he was about to get gored or crushed. He struggled to his feet. The buffalo nearest him shifted, trapping him between it and another one. Felix held his breath until the buffalo shifted again, and then he managed to get free. Luckily, he’d lost sight of the angry one, but now he was lost in a sea of buffalo, trying his best to get out of the herd.

Once again a buffalo shifted, this time trapping Felix between its haunches and the haunches of another one. Their tails swished lazily. They didn’t seem like they were about to move again.

Felix placed his hands on the animal’s hairy back
and tried to push it away. But when it turned its large head toward him—unhappily, Felix thought—Felix stopped. Instead, he wiggled his body until, inch by inch, he worked his way out and smacked into something very un-buffalo-like.

He screamed and turned, afraid of what he might see next.

And there was Maisie, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

“Buffalo,” she whispered.

“No kidding,” Felix said.

“We just have to make it over there,” she said, pointing her chin.

“Oh,” he said, “is that all?” There were about a zillion buffalo between them and over there.

“Slow and steady,” she said.

Felix took her hand and did what she suggested. Together they made their slow, steady way through the herd.

“They’re kind of cute,” Maisie said from the grass where they sat beyond the buffalo.

“If they’re not going to kill you, sure,” Felix said.

He scanned the horizon. It appeared they really
were in the middle of nowhere. Felix saw nothing but buffalo and grass stretching seemingly forever.

Maisie lay down, putting her head on her arms.

“In the morning we’ll be able to figure out where we are,” she said.

“I hope so,” Felix said.

He touched the feather in his yellow tuxedo jacket pocket. One thing he knew for certain: There had not been this many buffalo in a long time. They were practically extinct. Another thing he knew—they had roamed the western states. Felix sighed and tried to stop thinking about it. Maisie was right. Once morning came, they would be able to figure out where to go and what to do. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of absolute silence until he finally fell asleep.

Maisie wasn’t sure what woke her up, the sound of horses pounding toward them or the strange shrieking. Whichever it was, Maisie and Felix startled awake at the same time, jumping to their feet. For a second, they saw nothing but the buffalo, which looked even bigger in the early morning light.

Then, across the prairie came dozens of Native Americans on horses, bows and arrows lifted. They were shirtless, with rawhide quivers of arrows slung over their bare shoulders. Their hair was long and black and flew in the breeze. Felix saw that they wore feathers in it. He once again reached into his pocket and touched the red-tailed hawk feather from The Treasure Chest. Maisie had been right. Things were clear now. One of these Native Americans needed this feather. But how would they ever figure out which one?

He didn’t have time to consider any longer. The buffalo, which had seemed temporarily frozen, suddenly began to run, their big brown bodies kicking up clouds of dust.

One of the men gave a long, loud call, and almost in unison, arrows flew. One. Two. Three.

Another call.

And it was over.

The dust seemed to float in the air for a moment before it settled, revealing the dead bodies of buffalo as far as Maisie and Felix could see.

Maisie swallowed hard, her hand reaching out to find her brother’s. The stink of blood and musk
made her want to throw up. She gulped again, holding on tight to Felix’s hand.

Across the plains, a sea of Native Americans descended on the dead buffalo. As Felix watched them, he realized where he and Maisie had landed. They were in the American West. And white settlers were the enemy.

“Maisie,” he whispered hoarsely. “We’ve got to get out of here before they see us.”

At first, she looked puzzled, but slowly she understood what Felix meant.

Her eyes scanned the endless stretch of land around them. There was no place to run without being seen.

“Uh-oh,” Maisie muttered.

Felix squinted. Here and there he saw large rocks or clumps of sagebrush. Maybe they could dash from one to the other, crouching until it was safe to continue on. But before he could tell Maisie his plan, a hand landed on his shoulder and held on to him hard. Another hand landed on Maisie’s, keeping her in place, too.

Maisie and Felix both turned to find a girl about their age glaring at them. Her dark hair fell to her
shoulders in two braids, and she wore a brown dress made of animal hides. Beneath the fringed hem, Maisie glimpsed brown pants, also made of hides. Even when their eyes met, the girl did not let go.

“We…” Felix began, but then he stopped. How could he possibly explain why he and Maisie were standing here?

The girl studied them with great seriousness. After what seemed forever, she released Maisie and lifted her finger to her lips.

“Sshh,” she said softly.

With her other hand, she motioned for them to follow her.

“Is she taking us prisoner?” Maisie managed to ask.

But Felix could only shrug and follow the girl’s moccasins as she lightly skipped across the grass.

After a very long time, a village of tepees appeared on the horizon. The girl had not said a word to Maisie and Felix or slowed down to wait for them when they lagged behind. But as they neared the village, she finally stopped.

“Cheyenne,” the girl said, pointing to the tepees.
“My people.”

Felix nodded.

The girl pointed to herself. “Yellow Feather,” she said.

“Felix,” Felix said, tapping his chest.

Yellow Feather laughed. “Fe. Licks,” she repeated.

“Maisie,” Maisie said.

“Maize?” Yellow Feather asked.

“Well, Maisie.”

“Hmph,” Yellow Feather said, and motioned for them to follow.

“Maize is corn,” Felix told Maisie, grinning. “She thinks you’re named after corn for some reason.”

“I know what maize is,” Maisie grumbled.

Now she could see that the tepees were enormous hides wrapped around tall wooden poles, painted brightly with scenes of buffalo hunts or men on horseback fighting with bows and arrows. Smoke rose from the center of the village, and the smell of meat cooking reminded Maisie that she hadn’t eaten since Bitsy Beal’s party the night before.

Yellow Feather pointed again, this time to the men returning with the buffalo. Horses thundered across the plains in the distance.

“No girls allowed to hunt,” Yellow Feather said angrily.

She put her hands on her hips and watched, scowling, as the men grew closer.

“Only men,” she added.

Felix caught up with Maisie and Yellow Feather.

“Will you eat all that buffalo meat?” he asked as he took in the sight of all the dead animals the men were bringing into the village.

Yellow Feather looked at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Once again she motioned for Maisie and Felix to follow her. This time she led them to a tepee where one of the dead buffalo had already been deposited.

She kneeled beside it and gently touched its stomach.

“Pot to cook in,” she said. “Or to carry water.”

Yellow Feather ran her hands along its hair. “Rope,” she said. “And belts. And beneath,” she added, pointing to the ribs, “we make sleds from these.”

Then she touched the strong muscles on its back. She held up an imaginary bow. “Strong,” she said, and Maisie and Felix both nodded, understanding
that somehow the muscle could be used to make the string of the bow.