Excerpt from "Horizon Dawn" book

An impressionable young girl who had not traveled outside the immediate area of her father’s ranchero and having seen only a few Americanos, mostly, all much older than she was, the girl became infatuated with the gringo and one thing led to another. When word reached the ranchero that the Federales, through effort of the Mexican government, had been ordered to search out any Americans in the area who might be hiding from the U.S. authorities for crimes committed in the states during the war, Adrian requested and received the patron’s permission to marry the fair Rosita. The old man fell ill shortly thereafter and the favored outlook for Adrian faded, but fast.

Ramon Rodriquez, the patron’s son, had never liked the American upstart whose “love” for his sister registered quite thin, also, because patron Domingo had favored the girl and while the old man might not leave his inheritance to her, she, and her American husband, could inherit a fair piece of the land and riches accumulated by the father.

With the authorities becoming more serious and adept in their task to find and deliver American criminals in the area to the U.S. authorities, and, with Ramon making no secret of his hatred for his sibling and her no-good Americano-gringo husband, Adrian wisely decided to return to Van Gangenburg, Nebraska Territory, taking the fair-Rosita with him. Another failure.

When old Domingo, along with his protection, died, the pair beat a hasty retreat to the north.

Adrian’s life had been wrought with injustice and unfairness from its meager beginnings; Adrian’s mother had been an Otoe Indian. Ezra Van Gangen “won” her as his bride in a convoluted tragedy of events not of his own particular choosing or making.

When Ezra had come to Nebraska country in the eighteen forties, the area was a vast prairie of open grasslands ideal for raising cattle. He built a sod house in a coulee facing the south where he resided for several years. The Otoe knew of the man’s presence, but, for their own reasons, chose to let him live in peace. Of course, there always has to be one fly in the ointment.

For Ezra Van Gangen, that interloper was one “Wounded Coyote” of the Otoe Indian nation.

A decade earlier, “Grass Fish”, as the Indian boy had then been called, approached his thirteenth year and had to face the “Challenge” which brought Indian youth into the realm of men who, once they had proven themselves, could join on hunting forays, fight alongside tribe members in battle, count coup and, marry. In accepting the ritual “Challenge” demanded of all Otoe Indian boys, Grass Fish had to show his courage by slipping into a hibernating bear’s winter lair, slice off a tip of the bruin’s ear equal in length to the width of the Indians knife, about an inch, or so, and return to the lodge with his trophy at which time his success would be celebrated by the elders of the clan in festivities with the entire tribe. At that prestigious ceremony, the newly accepted “Brave” would receive his “Courageous” new adult-warrior name.

“Grass Fish”, it was rumored among the tribe, was to be honorably declared “Bear Claw” by the chief, a sign that the boy-child had earned the prestige due his courage and bravery.

The Indian boy left the encampment in the moon of the new year to accomplish his challenge. By way of tradition which did not set out to defeat the courageous Indian youth by purposely placing him in harm’s way, the ritual made certain “allowances” to aid him in his quest. The winter month was chosen so as to insure the bear’s deep hibernation, thus giving the young Indian an advantage toward achieving his goal. Still, the “Challenge” officially demanded great courage of the fledgling’s initiative; crawling into a hole with a sleeping bear was no task for the faint-of-heart; then, too, slicing off a large piece of the animal’s ear further tested one’s resolve.

Grass Fish ventured to the place where he and his father had spied the bear he would challenge back in the fall of the year managing to follow the bruin and detect his wintering hibernation cave. As the first snow of the season fell, they watched the huge animal hole-up. Keeping vigil through the early blizzard for two days and then staying “on sight” for another three, the boy’s father carefully approached the cave, stuck his head in the hole and listened for the bear’s rhythmic breathing. Returning to Grass Fish, in concealment nearby, the Indian father told the boy to go to the cave and do as he had done, making sure to hear the breathing of the animal so he would know it again when he returned to meet his “Challenge”. With trepidation, the brave Indian boy performed his assigned duty. All was ready for the big event which they would delay until the long, hard freeze of the Winter-white season insured the boy’s success.

When the appointed time arrived, Grass Fish bravely left the encampment on his dire quest.

The Otoe waited for the triumphant return of Grass Fish; he should arrive within two moons, three, at the very most. At the setting sun of the fourth day, obvious concern etched Grass Fish’s mother’s face; his father remained stoic, showing no emotion. On the fifth night, the mother cried and begged her husband to go and rescue their son; to show his own bravery and to display utmost trust in his son’s ability, the father waited two more long days. Finally, he relented.

Any hope of finding the boy alive, much less triumphant as a conquering hero, was thin.

On the day the father left the Otoe winter camp on his own quest to locate and recover his son, snow began falling with a vengeance. The man went alone, without fanfare, or help. Not even a single “Good luck”-wish from any members of the tribe. If the boy had failed, it would reflect badly not only on the family, but, on the entire tribe glaringly revealed as a stain of weakness. All Indians were a proud people born of deep Tradition.

As the sun climbed to its daily pinnacle on the fourth day after the father’s departure, Grass Fish’s mother shielded her eyes from a blinding light glaring from high noon sun on the white- earth mantle; she screamed a blood-curdling lament as she spied her husband’s approach; the man stumbled through deep snow; he was alone. Resigned, the mother prepared to mourn; losing a son would require that she cut off three fingers in the Traditional grieving ritual.

She wept for the loss of her beloved son and, also, for her own designated plight.

Retiring to her tepee in abject hopelessness, the woman wailed, contemplating her tragic loss.

From outside came a stirring rumble of excited voices to the squaw’s ears; tribe members had apparently spotted her husband’s return. As the tormented woman exerted great effort to control her emotions, the disturbance erupted into a cacophony of celebrated whoops and cheering howls. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity further, the Indian squaw peered from her tepee; the tribe hurried past, running to the north. Joining in the melee, the squaw sighted her husband struggling toward the encampment. He was carrying a large burden upon his back.

At last able to see the unexpected arrival clearly, she yelped a high squeal of anticipatory celebration upon recognition of her man and their son; the father waved a trophy-piece of furry “ear” in the air---declaring…Success! The boy hung limp on his father’s back; whether he was alive or not, the distraught mother could only guess---holding…a distant hope.

The totally exhausted Indian went straight to his lodging with the boy as clan members cheered his heroic effort and the return of Grass Fish; the squaw ran ahead, looking back in trepidation, relieved with the return of her family, yet worried with concern over each of them.

Inside the tepee, the man laid his son on buffalo robes, collapsing in a heap beside him, breathing heavily from the exertion of his “successful” campaign.

Chief Kun-a-mek-sha entered the lodging accompanied by the tribe’s medicine man who immediately examined the youth for injuries. After several minutes, the Indian “doctor” told the squaw to give the child sips of water, slowly. Then, he advised, speaking to the chief out of respect for his leader’s authority, telling him and the parents that the child had suffered a broken leg and that some animal had chewed on the limb. There was a slight sloughing of flesh within the wound, but, freezing cold had lessened the potential damage, somewhat. Also, the boy suffered from lack of water and food. Time, the medicine man concluded, should heal the boy.

Having drunk some water and swallowing a few bites of stale flatbread which the squaw had provided her husband, the Indian stood, as a show of respect to the chief; deftly he related the rescue ordeal. When the man had concluded his narrative, the chief left as his medicine man prepared a medical poultice-concoction from his bag of magic herbs and secret potions which he placed on the young warrior’s badly injured leg, applying some, also, to the boy’s chest.

As the boy’s father sat on buffalo robes, greedily quenching a powerful thirst and satiating a gnawing hunger, his squaw attended to her man, covering his thin shoulders with a warm deer skin and then another heavy elk robe; he looked drawn and pale, but displayed a good appetite.

The chief had begun speaking to the assembled tribe as they quieted upon his exit from the tepee. Those inside the structure could clearly hear his words.

“My people,” the chief began in his Otoe tongue, “our warrior, Antelope-Wind, has returned with Grass Fish who set forth with the “Challenge” to slip into the bear’s winter lodge, cut off the tip of the sleeping giant’s ear and return to his people.”

The chief allowed a slight smile to show and the tiniest sound of a laugh. Quickly sobering, he continued with the stern façade of a proud Indian leader.

He continued. “Sometimes the plan takes an unforeseen turn and the “Challenge” makes it necessary to make adaptations. This fork in the path can then become an even greater measure of the man, if it is handled correctly. Grass Fish did quite well when the bear’s den held a surprise for our new brave. It seems that our friend, the fierce-some bruin, had vacated his winter lair for some reason before our novice returned to take the bear’s ear. When Grass Fish entered the cave, he was completely surprised by a new inhabitant, an unfriendly coyote who too took immediate offense at the rude-uninvited intrusion into his lodge. Instead of a sleeping bear, our brave Indian boy came face to face with an angry, agitated coyote; and, the fight was on.

“Antelope-Wind found his son in the cave with a dead coyote; the boy had survived on the remains of the varmint until his father came for him. Grass Fish had suffered a broken leg and some other serious injuries as the coyote dog had attempted to eat his damaged leg during the long ordeal of the struggle. Our brave finally killed the coyote with his knife, then took its ear.”

The chief held the severed furry cartilage in the air to the tribe’s wild cheers and whoops.

“Antelope-Wind did what he could for the boy and when the storm broke, he put the young brave onto his back and started home to our village. As you saw, they arrived a short time ago.

“With rest, food and attention from the medicine man and the brave’s mother, he should recover and be just fine.” The chief paused, giving an indication that he was about to make an announcement of some import; the old man did not disappoint.

“You will from this moment forward call our brave new warrior: Wounded Coyote!”

Cheerful “Yip’s” and calls erupted from the assembled throng as they called his new name.

When some semblance of calm returned over the clan, the chief drew his knife and held it over his head as a fiat officially declaring the brave’s new name as he shouted, “Wounded Coyote!” A huge bon fire was erected and set ablaze in observance of the fine event; fresh venison haunches were prepared and a great feast ensued in an extended celebration.

Within five years, Wounded Coyote had taken a squaw. His adventure in the Cave-of-the-Coyote, as the event had come to be known, had left the brave with a mean streak; the young man earned a reputation of “bad temper” and of being downright “purposely” unpleasant. That the man viciously beat his young wife became his most celebrated self-achievement. In the Indian society-culture, no one could interfere, not even an elder nor the chief.