The Good, the Bad, and the Goofy #3 by Jon Scieszka

Author:Jon Scieszka [Scieszka, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Westerns
ISBN: 9780142400463
Publisher: PUFFIN
Published: 2004-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

Page 11

Bull

Bear’s wife thought we looked hungry. She brought us more of the rotten-sneaker meat stuff.

“Doesn’t anybody in this time eat regular food?” said Fred.

“You were expecting buffalo pizza?” asked Sam.

In between halfhearted bites, Sam and Fred filled me in on what they had found out.

“These guys are from Black Kettle’s Cheyenne tribe—the one Cooky said Custer has been chasing around,” said Sam.

“Yeah,” said Fred. “And the good news is that Black Kettle is not a bad guy.

He wants to return us to Custer’s cavalry to prove that they are a peaceful tribe.”

“But the bad news,” said Sam, “is that this guy Bull Bear is the leader of a group of warriors called Dog Soldiers. He thinks they should return just our scalps.”

“So let me guess,” I said, feeling sicker than the food. “The council tonight is to decide whether they send back us or our scalps.”

“Right,” said Sam.

“Right,” said Fred. “Great,” I said.

The council tipi was the largest tipi of all. Inside and out, it was covered with pictures and designs. A few stars twinkled in the bit of sky we could see through the smoke hole at the top.

Bull Bear sat Fred, Sam, and me in front of him.

A circle of old men and young warriors went all around the fire at the center.

One guy sat in a special seat behind a circle of sticks. He held a bundle wrapped in fur and decorated with feathers. I figured he must be Chief Black Kettle. Sam nodded toward him. “That’s the medicine chief.”

A friendly-looking old guy who reminded me of my grandfather stood up next to him.

Everyone quieted down.

“Chief Black Kettle,” said Sam.

“Brothers. We meet tonight to decide what to do with these three wasichu boys we have found. Let us now ask Grandmother Earth, Grandfather Sky, and the Four Directions for wisdom in deciding what is best for the People.”

The entire tipi full of braves became instantly quiet. We sat as still as possible. I thought of all of the cowboys and Indians I had seen in movies and on TV. I thought of how far away from all of that we were.

“Hiy,”

said Black Kettle, breaking the spell.

Everyone answered, “Hiy.”

The medicine chief unfolded the bundle. He pulled out a red clay pipe with a long wood stem, and lit it with a stick from the fire.

The pipe passed from person to person around the circle. When it got to me I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. I puffed carefully and blew out a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. I held back a cough and passed the pipe to Sam.

When everyone had smoked, Black Kettle spoke.

“Everyone here knows me and my thoughts on this. The White War Chief has promised to protect us if we follow the peaceful way. If we return these boys to the Bluecoats, they will know our hearts are good. If we kill these boys, it can only bring bad medicine and war to the People.

It is I, Moka-ta-va-tah, that says it.

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