Brindle's Odyssey

I rubbed my temples and tried to absorb what he was telling me. The water of Spirit Lake was shining brightly, reflecting the unabashed sunlight from the midday sun. Odd Whitefeather directed my attention to the woods. A whitetail deer was standing there, a great buck with velvet antlers.

  “I want you to meet a friend of mine,” the old man said, beckoning the deer with his hand. I was amazed to see the noble beast nearly prance into our presence. Odd Whitefeather stroked his nuzzle with a leathery hand. “I call him Otis, simply to give him a name. It is not my right to name him, but I needed to call him something. Hello Otis, I’d like to introduce you to my grandson. He is called Buffalo Head.”

  The great buck snorted with laughter and Odd Whitefeather quickly joined in. I had never seen a laughing deer, and the sight of it was very strange. I waited for them to stop.

  My grandfather and the buck exchanged a look and it was the old man who spoke first. “Let me guess, our grandfathers brought you back in time to show you what had once been. That is very important to know, but the story wouldn’t be complete without an understanding of the here and now. One cannot change the past. We can only learn from it and move on.”

  I think what Oddfather is trying to say is…” said Otis, before Odd Whitefeather cut him off.

  “What have I told you about using that name?” the old man asked the large whitetail deer.

  “Listen to you, and just who was it that graced me with the name Otis? I’m hip to your game, Odd. You go on and play like you didn’t know Otis was the name of the drunk in that old TV show, you just go right ahead. What, you think I ain’t never seen a television set?”

  “Enough about your name!” shouted Odd Whitefeather.

  “You’ve done hurt my feelings, there’s no need to shout. What, you’re not my friend anymore?”

  “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Odd Whitefeather stared at Otis in consternation. He started to speak, twice, but thought better of it on both occasions.

  “Don’t worry about it, old timer, I was just havin’ a little fun witcha. Buffalo Head, it’s very nice to make your acquaintance. I would prefer you not to think of me as a common drunkard, but if it helps make things easier, tear it up.”

  I was also speechless, Otis the deer had suddenly shifted gears and I looked at him in a different light. “Pleased to meet you,” I said, stupidly sticking my hand out for a shake.

  “Oh,” said Otis. “I can see that the fruit didn’t fall far from the tree! Let me guess, you taught him everything he knows, right?”

  “Knock it off, we don’t have much time,” Odd Whitefeather said with a slight edge and a stern look.

  “Right,” said Otis. “As I was saying, we are free to learn from the mistakes of the past, but only if we choose to do so. How is it that a buck of my obvious maturity and incredible stature, has managed to stay alive all of these years? I learned from the mistakes of others. I know of places that are impossible for dudes like you to get to. Can you dig it?”

  He gave me a moment to comment, but when I stayed silent he picked up where he left off.

  “So, I’ve got me a dozen does down there and life is pretty good for your old friend, Otis. Well, let me tell you something about does…”

  “Otis!” Odd Whitefeather said between clenched teeth.

  “Steal you blind, make your fawns turn against you, never let you get a good night’s sleep…”

  “Otis!”

  “Oh, lighten up, old dude. I don’t get to try out my new material very often, why you gotta keep a brother down?”

  “We don’t have time. I promise to bring him back after this is all over and you can have as many hours of his time as you please.”

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Deal,” said Otis. “As I was saying, we need to learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of others. Think of it this way, the past is never far behind and mistakes are being made every second. If you go through life paying attention, you’ll be all right. The things that kill you are the momentary lapses in good judgment. I have a good friend hanging on someone’s wall, just a few miles from here. He knew better, but he let the moment get away from him. Bang! Can you dig it?”

  “Like sending a text message when you’re driving,” my grandfather added. He then dug in his pocket and removed a flat cell-phone.

  “Right,” said Otis, giving me the slightest of winks. “As I was saying, remember where you are and where you came from. Remember the bad places you’ve been and what situations to avoid, that is good advice and you would do well to live your life that way. Now, Odd wouldn’t have called me if there wasn’t some sort of fighting involved. I love a good fight, my record is ninety and zero, isn’t that right?”

  We both looked at the old man. He was thumbing the keypad of his cell phone with a fair amount of skill for a man of his advanced years. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

  “Will you put that thing away? I’m trying to make a point here.”

  The message sent, Odd Whitefeather closed the cell phone and returned it to his fanny-pack.

  “I think I know where you’re coming from,” I said, trying my best to sound hip. “So, answer me this: the last time I was inside that house was five years ago, I walked out smelling like a rotten skunk and it was only three days ago that I was rid of the stink. Do you think it’s a good idea to go back inside?”

  Odd Whitefeather and Otis exchanged a strange look and they both turned to face me.

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Odd Whitefeather said, slapping me on the back. “There are still places we all need to go, and sometimes, they aren’t very pleasant. We can’t bury our heads in the sand, it only makes matters worse. We will speak of our mission in due time, right now it is time to learn. Otis is the best fighter I have ever known. You have a very good teacher.”

  “No offense,” I said. “But he’s a deer, what can he teach me about fighting?” I was flat on my back before the last of the words had fallen from my mouth. Otis had taken me down so quickly that I scarcely had time to register his movements.

  “Let that be your first lesson,” said Otis. “Fighting is the same for everyone and everything. There are times when fighting is governed by rules, mutually agreed upon. There are other times when it’s no holds barred, which usually means to the death. You may never need this knowledge, but it’s necessary to know some things. Now, get up and let’s get started.”

  The three of us stood out on the lawn for over an hour as Otis taught me about fighting. I was shocked at how much of what I was taught was applicable to a human being. He may as well have been teaching me the tactics of war. Odd Whitefeather was right, Otis was an excellent teacher and I felt invigorated by the lessons. The old buck had a way with words and I began to look forward to talking with him after all of this, whatever this was; was completed. The truth be told; I still had no real idea of what we were up against.

  I bid farewell to my new friend and I watched him bound back into the woods. He was a noble creature with a fierce dignity and a strange sense of humor. I had been enlightened and I would never look at a whitetail deer in the same way.

  “What did you think of Otis?” Odd Whitefeather asked, removing his straw hat and scratching the top of his head.

  “How can we allow such great beasts to be hunted down and killed?”

  “Ah… I thought you would ask me that. Remember this, we all live in harmony on our little planet and we are all interconnected by the Great Spirit. Hunting is part of your heritage and it is necessary for survival. Killing for survival is accepted, killing for the sake of killing is not. You must walk softly on Mother Earth. There will be a day of reckoning. Each life here is significant, necessary; there is a cycle of life. Do you understand me? When you eat something you have killed, part of that animal’s soul lives on inside of you. If you kill something and leave it to rot, that is unacceptable and the consequences will be terribl
e.”

  “What about war?”

  “War is no different, but you don’t want to eat your enemies.”

  “Right…”

  “Sit down with me on the bench, all this standing has made me tired. I am nearly one hundred years old, did you know that?”

  I sat down next to him and nodded my head. “You have told me.”

  “So, what do you think about that?”

  “I think it’s great, what do you mean? Happy birthday…”

  “It is not my birthday; I was born on Christmas Day, which is a blessing and a curse… No, what I would like to hear is how you think I was able to live so many years and still have my wits about me and the stealth of an eagle.”

  I should have let it go, but I couldn’t let it pass. Odd Whitefeather was an amazing man, but on no occasion had he exhibited any sort of stealth. The mere thought of the old man tip-toeing about was enough to make me chuckle. “Stealthy? You?” I asked. “I’m sorry, you may be a lot of things, but stealthy isn’t one of them.”

  “Is that so?”

  “All right, let’s get serious. I am very impressed that a man of your age is still capable of so many things. I applaud you on your accomplishment…”

  But when I turned to look at him, Odd Whitefeather was gone. I turned my head up towards the house, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “What do you think of my new boots?” Odd Whitefeather suddenly asked, causing my heart to thunder inside my chest.

  I turned my head and looked down at Odd Whitefeather’s feet. He was wearing my Red Wing boots. “How did you do that?” I somehow mumbled.

  “That is not important right now. I was asking you about living to be my age and still being a force to be reckoned with. The key is clean living, but good genes never hurt. You drink a lot of whisky, those days are over. Do you understand me? You are a different man now, it is time to learn from the mistakes of your past and move on with your life. You have many great things yet to accomplish.”

  “I do understand and I promise you that I will never drink again.”

  “Don’t promise me, promise yourself. You need to know something about yourself. There are two separate beings living inside your skin. You must learn to look after each of them. Your mind has a clear voice and an unfair advantage over your body. You must listen closely to what your body is telling you. Your mind will ask for whisky, not caring much what your body will think of it the next day. Slowly, your own mind will reason that its need for the whisky is more important than the health of your own body. The whisky will eventually kill you.”

  “I see…”

  “The mind does not want to go for long walks. The mind asks for extra sour kraut on your pizza, even when it knows the consequences. You must tend to each of their needs, being careful to weigh things out. What if your body told you to drill a hole into your head, would you do it? Of course you wouldn’t. That is why you must think outside of yourself. Feed your mind knowledge, and give your body good food and exercise.”

  “I had heard this before, but not quite in the same way. I didn’t speak, I merely continued to look at my teacher and absorb all of what he said. I didn’t want him to waste his breath. The man was nearly one hundred years old.

  We sat there on the bench for countless hours as the sunset gave way to a black sky and a million shining stars. I was taught how to spot weasels and leeches and to avoid them. I was schooled in the art of explosive movement, which I had to admit would come in very handy. This was how Odd Whitefeather had acquired my Red Wings. The old man talked long after the sun had risen in the eastern sky. I learned many things that night, but one thing stuck in my head above all others.

  “Remember this,” Odd Whitefeather had said, turning his head and putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Everything is pre-ordained. Only you have the power to change that, but that is something you must never do. Follow what is in your heart and you will stick to your chosen path. Stray from that path and you soon become lost. Finding your way back to the path is a terrible waste of time. Sometimes, it will cost you all of your dreams.”

  Later, as we sat in the sun and Odd Whitefeather began to wind down, I asked him about what had been chewing at the back of my mind. I wanted to know about Major Barnabus C. Soliah. Why was he here, and why did he need me? How did he fit into everything?

  “I was getting to that,” he said, rubbing his tired eyes and staring straight ahead at the lake. “Soliah was in command of the men at the Battle of Sugar Point. He wants revenge for himself, and for his men. They suffered a huge embarrassment. White men foolishly believe that they always have to find a way to gain the upper hand. This has been the cause of many wars, both great and small.”

  Why does he seem to need me? I have no interest in helping him.”

  “He needs you because he believes that you owe it to him to avenge his death. He is your grandfather and you are the last of his bloodline. They cannot travel in the present without someone’s permission. That someone is you.”

  “I won’t give it to him.”

  “You say that now…”

  I gave him a confused look, but we were suddenly interrupted by Crooked Walker. “Thief,” he said, pointing to the boots. “I should have known better to take a nap while you were around.”

  Odd Whitefeather laughed. “I was only proving something to Buffalo Head.”

  “Buffalo Head,” spat Crooked Walker. “What kind of name is that?”

  “It is my name and I am proud to own it,” I said, rising to my feet.

  “I am glad you like your name,” said Dog Breath from over Crooked Walker’s slumped shoulder.

  Crooked Walker turned. “Don’t you sneak up on me like that, I’m an old man!”

  “And what does that make me?” Dog Breath asked with a wry smile.

  “That makes you an old dog.”

  “Let us eat,” said Odd Whitefeather, and he swept his hand towards the lawn and a picnic table appeared. There were four places set at the table and food was heaped upon the plates. I quickly discovered that Odd Whitefeather had known what we had all been craving, and we easily found our places at the table. I sat in front of a steaming New York strip steak, a baked potato topped with sour cream and a side of hot buttered carrots. Texas toast and a small salad sat on small plates to the side and a large glass of chocolate milk had been poured for me. I nearly fainted at the sight of it.

  Odd Whitefeather said a few words of thanks and we began to eat.

  Crooked Walker dug into the belly of a great cooked fish and pulled out the tender meat with his fingers. Dog Breath held an ear of multi-colored corn to his mouth and chewed at its uneven rows with his gums. Odd Whitefeather held a fat slice of greasy pizza topped with sour kraut and he bit into it with relish. I wanted to comment on it, but I was too hungry. We ate in relative silence, and I tried to block out the sound of old men chewing food.

  Although nobody suggested it, when we had finished we all rose from the table at once and we lay out on the green grass of the lawn. I was soon fast asleep.

  I must have slept hard, because when I woke up I felt completely refreshed. I just didn’t remember changing into an old pair of pajamas and crawling into a soft bed.

  “Did you sleep well, young Huckleberry?”

  I instantly sat up and found myself staring into the ghostly face of Major Soliah. He was smiling and his teeth gleamed in the light. “I know what you want,” I said. “And I’ll never give it to you. I am Ojibwe!”

  “Yes, there is that, isn’t there.” sighed Soliah. That is what makes this so damn hard. You see, Huckleberry, I had two families in my lifetime. The first was savagely murdered, which nearly killed your grandmother and me. We had to start over, which wasn’t easy after what happened here. How did you come along? I blame my daughter for that. After everything that happened, she took up with a redskin. Well, a done bun can’t be undone, can it? You are also a Soliah, don’t you forget that.”

  “That isn’t possible
,” I said. The years don’t add up. You’re far too old to be my grandfather, can’t you see that?”

  “A very astute observation, my boy, but you’re wrong. You assume that I lived like a normal man. Look at me; do I look like a normal man to you? Oh, I believe you have just hurt my feelings. What a strange sensation… You cannot deny me, I am your grandfather.”

  “I sure as hell can,” I snapped back. “I’ll never support you!”

  Soliah’s pale face grew a violent shade of red and his eyes narrowed into slits. “Is that so? Come over here to the window,” he said, nodding his head towards the wall, as if he meant for me to see something that would make me change my mind.

  I rose and walked to the window, feeling foolish in the nightgown-like pajamas. I took my time, thinking that there was nothing out there that could possibly sway me. I looked down upon the lawn and I instantly changed my mind. The soldiers were gathered on the lawn, some were on horseback. Dog Breath and Crooked Walker were lashed to four horses apiece, with each man tied by a single limb to the mounted animals. I could plainly see that Soliah was about to have my Native grandfathers drawn and quartered. “Stop,” I said. “You win, let them go.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t have to do this. I said I would do it!”

  “And then what would you do? You wouldn’t believe me in the future and I would have lost your trust. You would always think I was bluffing. Real men never bluff, young Huckleberry. Real men charge into the heat of the battle and there is no bluffing out there. Watch carefully!”

  “No… No… I’ll do anything you ask, just spare their lives!”

  “Never bluff, young Huckleberry. Never, ever…”

  I slowly backed away from the window.

  “Now!” screamed Soliah in a voice loud enough to echo inside the bedroom.

  I put my hands over my ears and spun toward the opposite wall. Despite my attempts, the sound of old men screaming was all I could hear. I thought I would go mad. Suddenly, something inside of me snapped. I turned on Soliah and landed a punch to his face that brought him to his knees. With unbelievable speed, before I could even land a second blow, half a dozen stout soldiers dashed into the room and restrained me.

  Soliah rubbed his cheek and scowled at me with a furious hatred. “You’ll pay for that,” he said. “I can promise you that.”

  “You didn’t need to kill them!”

  “Shut your mouth and listen to me. You still have the power to save the last of them, what’s his name, Old Whitefeather?”

  “What have you done with him?” I asked, twisting against my captors.

  “That information will be shared with you after we complete the mission. Now that you know me to be a man of my word, what do you say? Would you like to save the old man’s life, or would you like me to cut out a few inches of his intestines and give it to the dogs? I could do that. I could do that right now.”

  “I believe you!”

  “Very well, my good lad, a wise decision, but I have to admit, one that was much easier to make after you understood the stakes. Am I right?”

  I nodded my head in defeat. Hot tears burned down my cheeks.

  “Now, you listen up, boy,” Soliah nearly shouted at me. “Your life is mine for the next two weeks. The first day is to give you the rest of the story, what those old men so conveniently left out. The next two weeks we spend wiping out the red devils to the west. The first time you make a sour face, roll your eyes, or even utter the word no, Old Whitefeather will have his guts spilled all over this fine lawn, and it will all be because of you. Do we understand each other?”

  Again, all I could do was nod my head. I could not bear to look at him.

  “You see, young Huckleberry, life really is like a game of cards. The first thing you need to understand is that the house never loses. And you’re in my house now. So, look sharp and listen up. Get dressed and meet me in my study. Don’t make me wait.”

  I watched him as he clopped across the wooden floor and out into the hallway. He closed the door and I blindly reached for my clothes. A tear fell, followed by a hundred more.

  How I did it, I’ll never know, but I pulled myself together and thought hard about what Soliah had said. He had given me specific warnings that I needed to heed, if I ever hoped to see my grandfather alive. With those warnings stuck in my head, I walked down the elegant grand staircase and into the study. The house smelled of lilacs and of a fresh breeze off the lake. I opened the double doors and entered the familiar room. Soliah was seated behind his desk.

  “Right on time, just as we both knew you’d be.”

  I sat down and was careful not to lose eye contact with the creature that had murdered both Dog Breath and Crooked Walker, without blinking an eye. This was no man. I didn’t care what it called itself, it was an evil beast and I would play along until I saw my opportunity to kill it and rescue my remaining grandfather.

  “I’m afraid that there’s been a change of plans,” Soliah said, showing me a great look of mock concern. “We’re going to skip the schooling part. I believe I’ve taught you all you need to know. We’re getting ready to ride and your horse is outside.”

  I stood to my feet. “Let’s go,” I said, never dropping my eyes from his.

  “Good answer; you see how easy it is? Complete capitulation has its own reward, doesn’t it? I really wouldn’t know, but it sure seems as if it would. All right, follow me out to the men. Mind your manners, boy, you know the consequences.”

  I burned with the desire to strangle the life out of Soliah, but I followed him out of the study, across the spacious foyer and out the front door. The men were mounted and waiting for us down on the lawn. Two horses stood tied to a post and I followed Soliah to the steeds, taking the Appaloosa mount that he offered me. The Major climbed onto the back of a mighty black Bay. The horse looked at me with a black eye and I thought I could read an intense hatred there.

  Soliah caught the look and he roared with laughter. “He doesn’t like you, my boy. He is waiting for the chance to trample you. You best mind yourself around my horse.”

  I climbed into the saddle and I felt instantly different. I now wore the uniform of the 3rd Infantry, complete with boots and long leather gloves. Somehow, I felt eager for the ride, perhaps it was because I wanted to be away from that wretched place. I had lost too much there.

  I reigned in and we rode out of there, Major Soliah insisting that I ride next to him. I was no stranger to a horse and the Appaloosa rode like a dream. We rode on for miles, somehow never once crossing a road or seeing a house. We rode all through the night like that.

  The next afternoon we emerged into the town of Walker. I had been there on many occasions, but I didn’t recognize anything but the huge lake and the familiar shoreline. Two steamships, boxy and ancient-looking, sat tied to a long pier. A crowd of people were gathered there.

  “Be sure to smile, boy,” Soliah said. “We don’t want to disappoint the press.”

  We rode up to the throng on our exhausted horses, dismounted, and unloaded our packs and rifles. I followed the others, wanting to fit in as much as possible. I could feel the eyes of the People on my back as I untied the leather thongs that held my pack. They knew. I could just feel it. When I turned my head I saw that I had been correct in my assessment.

  I felt dizzy as I followed the men onto one of the ships. Her name was the Flora and she stank of dead fish and brackish water. I took my place under the watchful eye of Major Soliah and I was very careful not to let him see how badly I was being tortured.

  Soliah stood on the deck and smiled to the crowd of well-wishers. “Thank you, thank you,” he said. “I know we’ve all waited a long time for this day and I want to thank you all for being so patient with us. Some things take time…”

  “A hundred years?” asked a voice from the crowd. “Hell, longer…”

  Soliah immediately leapt from the boat and dove into the crowd. “Who said that?” he demanded to
know. “Stand up and let yourself be counted, you coward!”

  ‘I said it,” said the big man in the bibbed overalls. He stood nearly a head taller than the Major and was much broader in the chest. I did a double-take, could it be? And sure enough, it was a very young Odd Whitefeather.

  “You!” cried Soliah, and he pulled at his scabbard and charged at Odd Whitefeather with his saber drawn.

  Odd Whitefeather was quickly brought to his knees by a dozen strong arms. “I left you at the house, how the devil did you escape?” Soliah asked placing the steel against Odd Whitefeather’s exposed neck.

  “Stop!” I brazenly shouted. “We had a deal, it’s off if you harm a single hair on his head.”

  Soliah met my gaze and we stared each other down. Finally, after an agonizingly long minute, he dropped his saber to his side and smiled. “So, we did!” he called back to me. Then, he pointed to the men that held my grandfather and said very slowly: “Lock this one up in your jail and keep a good eye on him. If he tries to escape, you may feel free to shoot him.”

  An hour later, after Walker had become a distant memory, I thought back to the look of terrible disappointment on my grandfather’s face. He was dragged away like a sack of grain and I lost track of them as he was whisked into that miserable excuse for a town. I had failed him, had failed them all, and now I felt helpless to stop what was about to happen. We were going to repeat the Battle of Sugar Point.

  The difference this time was that the game had changed and the stakes had been upped, considerably.

  Chapter Eight