Four Wolves Becomes a Man

STEALING A HORSE FROM or running off the herd of an enemy, is both honorable and brave, traits to which all the Lakota aspire. From the earliest days I can remember, my father told me of the brave deeds and exploits of warriors, inspiring me to be diligent in all of my lessons, so when I finally became a man, I would do nothing to dishonor my father or my tribe. I was taught to fight and live with honor, making me wary and disdainful of cowards, liars, and thieves.

Paha Sapa—The Black Hills—is the center of the world, as far as we are concerned. When I was a little boy, the white men invaded our sacred mountains, and the Lakota united as one in beating them back, chasing them out of Paha Sapa. We continued to punish the bluecoat soldiers until the government of the United States signed a treaty forbidding any white person from entering, mining, or attempting to settle in Paha Sapa. The treaty gave Paha Sapa to the Lakota forever. It was a lesson in infinity however, because forever only lasted a few years.

Paha Sapa had become personal to me last summer when I went to find my spirit animal, which would become my name as an adult male in my tribe, the Oglala Lakota. I’d been called Smiling Racoon since I was born, and my time had come to become a man. I went into Paha Sapa with my knife, a bow and arrows, and the clothes I had on. The medicine man had blessed me and given me my instructions. I did what every male adult of my tribe had done since the beginning of memory—a boy goes out into the wilderness alone and returns to the tribe as a man. It should have been a glorious and important occasion for me, but instead it was overshadowed by the doings of a thief.

General Custer was known to us as Pahuska—Long Hair—and he was a proven thief, liar, and coward, traits which were despised by the Lakota. He’d led an expedition into Paha Sapa and reported to his government “there’s gold from the grass roots down.” He’d cut a road into Paha Sapa, which was known as The Thief’s Road and seekers of gold and riches soon inundated our sacred mountains, forcing us to fight when we could, and retreat when we couldn’t. I came to be a man at the wrong time.

When I went off by myself, I ate only enough to survive, concentrating more on communing with nature. I immersed myself in the spiritual world by meditating, fasting, and chanting. One night, I had the dream I’d been waiting for. It was so realistic it didn’t seem like a dream at all. I lay in a circle and four wolves approached me, one from each direction. Each one licked my hand, then they turned their backs on me, growling into the darkness at whatever unseen foes may have been out there. I woke up smiling because I would no longer be Smiling Racoon.

When I returned to where we were camped, I told the medicine man my dream in full detail. He confirmed my spirit animal was the wolf, and I would forever and always, from that moment, be known as Four Wolves.

I thought having an adult name would make a huge difference in my place in the tribe, but it didn’t. Not right away, at least. If there were a raiding party, I might go to take care of the horses and observe. How could I prove my worth, honor, and bravery if all they’d let me do was hush the horses? I could shoot a bow, count coup, ride a horse in multiple positions, and I wasn’t afraid. At least, I told myself I wasn’t afraid.

We were camped in the Valley of the Greasy Grass, and it was the largest encampment of the Lakota I’d ever seen. There were so many tipis in the encampment that they stretched as far as the eye could see and were impossible to count. The Hunkpapa were camped at the far end, because that was the meaning of their name. There were Cheyenne, Arapaho, and many divisions of Lakota. It was such a huge encampment because we were once again at war with the United States, all because of Pahuska and the greed of white men. We’d beaten them at the Rosebud a week ago, but once again, I had been relegated to watching horses and staying with the women and children. There had been dances and celebrations daily, with little worry about Pahuska or the bluecoats, because there were too many of us, and only a fool would attempt to attack us.

It was a beautiful morning, the kind of day meant for relaxing and doing whatever one wanted. My father hadn’t given me anything to do, and my mother and sisters were digging for wild onions. The cool water of the river beckoned to me, and I went swimming with others near my sixteen summers of age. We splashed and played, and for a little while, I enjoyed being a child, with nothing to worry about. It had all the signs of being a lazy day.

“The chargers are coming! The chargers are coming! They are charging!” a crier shouted out.

Our massive encampment was being attacked, and the soldiers were charging the far end of the camp, where the Hunkpapa were. I scrambled out of the river and ran towards my father’s lodge for my weapons. I stuck a hatchet in my belt, slung my bow and arrows over my shoulder, and grabbed my spear.

I ran into my father as I was exiting, and waited for him to tell me to check the horses or help the women and children. I waited the few seconds for him to grab his weapons, so he could tell me what I must do.

“Follow me,” he said.

We ran toward the Hunkpapas, women and children fleeing past us in an effort to escape the gunfire. By the time we got there, the attack had been thwarted and beaten back, and the soldiers had been driven into the woods. I exhaled, because I thought it was over, and the fear of failure inside me abated. Then I heard a bugle playing. The bluecoats were trying to attack at the other end of the encampment.

“It is Pahuska!” someone yelled.

We ran toward the other end of the encampment. Since the first attackers had been turned back, there were hundreds of warriors rallying to this new attack point. Warriors were in the river and the ravine, and I was still following my father when Pahuska and his men came charging down the hill, unaware they were surrounded. I released an arrow as we ran and felt a tiny bit of satisfaction as one of the bluecoats fell off his horse because of my arrow. I didn’t get a chance to release another, because the warriors descended on the bluecoats like a tornado.

I kept running forward, but it was no use. The warriors were like a snake tightening its coils, as they pressed forward against the encircled soldiers. There was dust, and smoke, horses running by riderless, and the soldiers dismounted, hoping to use their horses as shields, but the horses ran away. The shouts were bloodcurdling, but the screams will be with me forever.

It was over in a few minutes. Most of the Bluecoats were down, and I saw a white man with golden hair on all fours, with blood coming out of his mouth. It was Pahuska, looking dazed, confused, and doomed. My glimpse may have lasted all of two seconds, because the gap closed, filled by Lakota, Arapaho, and Cheyenne. The thief who had brought this trouble to us, was no more. I thought of all the stories I’d heard of the things Pahuska had done, such as the massacre of Cheyenne at the Washita, or cutting a road into Paha Sapa. Thieves have no honor, thus, they get what they deserve.

My stomach was churning, and I, at first, attributed it to my nervousness. The smell of blood and gore was in the air, and that’s why I was nauseous. I leaned against a tree, closed my eyes, and willed myself not to embarrass myself by vomiting. The brave tales and bloody stories I’d enjoyed hearing as a boy did not talk about the smells and sounds of men dying. I thought I’d been prepared, but I wasn’t. I opened my eyes to see my father staring at me.

“I watched you today,” he said. “As the guns were blazing, and men were dying, you did not flinch or hesitate. In the heat of battle, a Lakota man does what is needed for the people. It is only afterwards, when the blood has soaked the earth, the meaning of everything becomes clear. What did you learn today, my son?”

I closed my eyes, reflecting on everything which I’d witnessed. The sounds of men dying, the smell of blood, and the reasons why we had to fight. We weren’t fighting just to fight. We were fighting for Paha Sapa, for the Lakota, and for our way of life. I knew there were women, children, and warriors killed, plus a lot of soldiers who had sisters, fathers, and mothers who would grieve for them. I opened my eyes

“I learned that life is precious, Father,” I said, looking into his solemn eyes. “We breathe the air, laugh, love, feast, dance, but it only takes seconds for all of that to be gone. The men who died today will never swim or love or do anything again. It is over for them.”

My father put his hand upon my shoulder.

“You are a man now, Four Wolves. Not because you shot an arrow or took part in a battle, but because you saw how important each life is. I am proud of you.”

I looked up at the blue sky, watching the birds circle overhead. My father had proclaimed me a man in his eyes, something for which I’d always wished. It had been foolish of me, because now, more than ever, I wished I could go back to being a boy, swimming in a river with no cares. Those days were over…

Marlon S. Hayes is a writer, blogger, author, and poet from Chicago, Illinois. He has written six books, been featured in five anthologies, and written for two magazines. His current project is a prequel to his novel, Eleven Fifty Nine, which is to be released by Oghma Creative Media in 2020. He can be followed at Marlon's Writings on Facebook, marlonhayes.wixsite.com/author, and on Amazon. For 2018, his goal was to submit his writings to one hundred publishers. He achieved his goal with seven days to spare. In addition to his journey and evolution as a writer, Marlon is a grillmaster and chef with daydreams of opening a restaurant. He also has a severe case of ‘Wanderlust' and is at his happiest when he's on a trip to someplace new. He's on a quest to visit all fifty states, and his tally is currently at forty-seven, needing Montana, North Dakota, and Alaska. The allure of foreign climates have been beckoning, causing him to download translation apps to his phone, study currency exchange rates, and plan visits to six foreign countries in the next year. He follows the mantra that ‘Life is a banquet’ and he plans on constantly eating.