Chickadee by Louise Erdrich Page A

and plucked Chickadee off the ground and hauled him over the pole side of the cart. Quill set his nephew right next to him. He grinned. Uncle Quill had big white teeth and when he smiled the world looked like a better place immediately. Quill knew how to deal with a starving boy, because he’d been one himself and never forgot it. He handed over a flask of water, a bag of pemmican, a hunk of bannock, and he took a piece of beeswax out of his pocket, too.
    Chickadee took a drink of water, put the beeswax in his ears, and then proceeded to eat bite after bite of the bannock and handful after handful of delicious pounded berries and buffalo meat. As he filled himself up, sitting there secure next to his uncle, he felt a huge wave of happiness and good luck course over him. He grinned into the distance. Although Chickadee didn’t know where he was going, he knew he was with his wonderful uncle, Quill, who loved adventure, was taking him along, and would eventually return him to his family.

EIGHTEEN
RED RIVER TRAIL

    N obody knew about Chickadee’s luck back home, of course. Omakayas still woke every morning with Chickadee in her prayers. Mikwam, Yellow Kettle, Nokomis, and all of Chickadee’s relatives put pinches of tobacco out and prayed for him too. Makoons tried to be very, very good so that nothing he might do would anger the spirits. He wanted his brother back desperately.
    And his father and Two Strike kept walking until they came to the cabin that belonged to Babiche and Batiste.
    â€œHere,” said Animikiins. “My son’s footprints.”
    He ran to the ramshackle cabin. It was anything but the cozy place Babiche had described, and Animikiins’s heart filled with fear. The cabin was empty.
    â€œHere’s the stinking cabin, empty,” he called.
    â€œAnd here,” said Two Strike, looking into the stall, “two sad horses, hungry.”
    Brownie and Brownie had taken to eating the poles of their barn. The poles were now as frail as sticks. The horses would have eaten their way out to the haystack in another day if Animikiins and Two Strike hadn’t found them. The horses were dejected and skinny, and when Two Strike released them they went straight for the haystack and began to eat.

    â€œDon’t let them eat too much,” said Animikiins. “They’ll get sick.”
    Two Strike lured them back to the stall with clumps of hay and let them nibble more carefully.
    Animikiins was disgusted by the smell and look of the cabin, and he walked back out to examine the yard. He read the tracks just like white persons read books. He could see the story plainly in the tracks. He soon found that a wagon had stopped, that white women had jumped down. He knew what their tracks looked like with the pointy toe and heel. He saw white man’s shoes and his son’s tracks again. Then his son’s tracks disappeared and the horse and wagon tracks went on.
    â€œHe is with these people,” said Animikiins. “Whoever they are, they took him. At least he is alive.”
    Two Strike fed Brownie and Brownie each a lump of maple sugar. The two horses quickly took a liking to her and she had no trouble saddling them up. They were eager to get away from their stall and once Animikiins and Two Strike started out, they galloped along in sudden happiness. The wagon tracks were easy to follow. Brownie and Brownie were used to going places far and fast. They’d grown up hunting buffalo and then delivering the mail. They had big and heroic hearts, gentle dispositions, and stubborn allegiances. They had never been fond of Babiche and Batiste, but they immediately decided that they would obey Two Strike forever.
    It took them only two days to track down the wagon—there it was, sitting in a yard. A nun—for Animikiins had seen nuns before—was sweeping the earth in front of a little cabin. There was a cross over the doorway.
    Two Strike jumped off Brownie and