People of the Fire Read Free Page A

off with . . . with him?"
                   Cut Feather tried to swallow without success.
Instead, his saliva escaped the side of his mouth, trickling down his cheek and
over Blood Bear's iron fingers.
                   "Why? Curse you!"
                   "You still don't understand?" Cut
Feather closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of Blood Bear's choking grasp.
Could he still enjoy memories when his ghost rose to the Wise One Above? Or did
the soul evaporate like the physical body, eaten by this and that, rotted away?
                   The grip on his throat released entirely.
"Tell me."
                   "She Dreamed it. That's why she went to
you in the first place. The very sight of you disgusted her. Did you know
that?" He looked up, not surprised at the arrogant disbelief in Blood
Bear's eyes. "Yes, she thought you were no more than a surly camp
dog."
                   "For a camp dog, she came willingly, old
man. She saw I would lead the Red Hand People, saw I—"
                   "Fool! It was a Spirit Dream. I don't
know the half of it. A man doesn't guess about Spirit Power. It has its own
reasons for things. She Dreamed . . . and the Dream told her you must father
the child. As soon as her bleeding missed, she and Two Smokes left. No. Don't
threaten. I don't know where she went, or why, or what Two Smokes' part in it
is, either. But he's a good person. Maybe she needs him to care for the baby.
Maybe she needs his help for some other reason. He's berdache .
There's Spirit Power in that."
                   "I think you know where she is. You tell
me, old man. Tell me!"
                   "Think all you want. It's a new
experience for you, I'm sure."
                   The blow caught him by surprise, the slap loud
in the confines of the lodge. The power of it snapped Cut Feather's head
sideways, bright flashes dancing behind his ancient eyes.
                   "Sure," Cut Feather grunted through
the pain. "You can kill lots of Short Buffalo People and strut. You can
even kill me. But you're ruined here. Finished. Out there, they're listening,
hearing your rage. You would be leader of the Red Hand . . . but can people
follow a man who can't keep his wife and child from a berdache ?
Can they follow a man who'll kill a dying old man in rage? No . . . Clear Water
and I, we've broken you."
                   The corners of Blood Bear's lips twitched and
jumped as he struggled to control himself. For that instant of time, Cut
Feather knew true fear.
                   "Where is the Bundle ... the Wolf
Bundle?"
                   "She took it."
                   "That belonged to the People!"
                   "It was Spirit Power . . . something in
the Dream."
                   "I'll find her. I'll find my child. You
hear me? I swear on the Wolf Bundle she stole. I'll find my child!"
                   "The child? Or is it the Wolf Bundle? I
think you could care less about the child. I'm dying. I have no more to
say."
                   Under Blood Bear's taut cheeks, the muscles
jumped violently, the sound of his grating molars audible. "Then die, old
man!"
                   Blood Bear turned, hesitated, and kicked Cut
Feather in the stomach. "There, that won't kill you. But you'll know how I
feel."
                   And he was gone, bursting out into the light
beyond.
                   Cut Feather grunted as he doubled over,
knotting pain burning in his belly. He felt it pull as he straightened, a rush
of warmth deep within. A queer tingling followed as he began to feel bloated
and light-headed.
                   He barely realized when he fell over. Only it
seemed that faces peered sideways at him. The hides under his cold cheek felt
wet, soaked, as if someone had spilled water on them. A dizziness