People of the Moon(46)

Raising the girls fell to him. They were his family, members of his Blue Stick Clan. Yellow Petal’s husband, Black Bush, had little responsibility for the children he sired. Being Strong Back Clan, his concern was the proper raising and education of his own two sisters’ offspring. If anything, he’d go out of his way to spoil Fresh Stalk and Baby. After all, if they grew into young terrors, it wasn’t his family, lineage, or clan that would be thought ill of. No, people would look to Spots.

He’d heard that some of the Tower Builders traced descent through the men, and wondered what that would be like. Somehow, it just didn’t seem as logical. And since when did men have enough sense to see to the management of a family or a clan? Worse, how did they go about keeping land claims straight? Especially since everyone knew a man was more likely to die in warfare, hunting, or an accident than a woman was.

“What are you thinking?” Yellow Petal asked as she came and settled herself next to him.

“About the Tower Builders and the way they trace descent through the men.”

She shrugged, then stared thoughtfully down where Baby’s mouth was pressed to her breast. “People are different everywhere, I suppose.”

He nodded, aware from a lifetime’s experience that she was about to say something important. She never liked to rush into these things, but considered her words first. It was a trait she’d adhered to even more after the fire that had killed their parents and other brother.

“What happened on the mountain?” she asked at last. “This story about Ripple having a vision—is there anything to it?”

Spots chuckled, picked up an angular shale pebble, and flipped it out into the river, where it vanished with a plop. “He seems to believe it. You should have seen him: It was like he’d been touched by Cold Bringing Woman’s hand. He was so … I guess I’d say, different.”

“How?” She’d known Ripple for years and had a teasing relationship with him. Probably would have married him but for the fact they were clan kin and such a joining was forbidden.

“Withdrawn, distant, seeing things in his mind. Kind of, well, lost.”

“That doesn’t sound like Ripple.”

“No, I suppose not. I guess after what they did to his parents you can’t blame him for taking things too seriously.”

“Was the elk meat really frozen?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

“How do you explain that?”

Spots exaggerated his shrug. “What can I say? Cold Bringing Woman came down and gave a shake of her head. The meat froze and—”

“Spots?”

At the wary sound in her voice, he looked up, followed her hard gaze down the valley, to where two red-shirted warriors appeared out of the willows.

They stopped where Cousin White Nose pulled mustard weeds out of his small bean field. Across the distance, Spots could see them talking, could see White Nose point their direction. A chance flip of the breeze curled the smoke around from the drying fire, hiding the warriors from view.

“Maybe you’d better slip into the cornfield,” Yellow Petal added nervously.

“What? Why would—”

“Go! Now!”

Spots scuttled around the fire, bending low as he duck-walked his way into the tall corn. Once between the rows he dropped onto his belly, slithering like a snake under the sprawling bean vines. The damp scent of rich earth rose to fill his nostrils. He could barely see through the stalks and leaves, but it was enough when the smoke shifted to see that the warriors were approaching.

Yellow Petal was watching them warily, Baby still sucking greedily on her left nipple.

“Good day,” one of the warriors, a bandy-legged man greeted. His command of their language was rude but effective. He looked curiously around as he stopped. His attention focused on the elk, a slight smile coming to his lips. “Uh, we look for Spots.”

“He’s not here,” she told him. “He’s headed back up the mountain.” The second man was younger, thin-faced, with narrow black eyes. He asked, “What did she say?” Spots knew enough of the Made People’s tongue to make that out.

“That the hunter’s not here,” the bandy warrior replied.

“You believe her?”

The bandy warrior asked in their language, “Where he go?”

Yellow Petal pointed up the valley, saying, “He killed a second elk. He’s gone for the meat.”

From his position, Spots couldn’t hear the whispered conversation between the two warriors, or see their faces clearly, but it looked as if they weren’t buying Yellow Petal’s story.

“When he back?” the bandy warrior asked suddenly.