Native American Short Stories

Machapunga Tribe (Part 2)

Itzhak ran the bone comb through his wife's hair again, his left hand raking through the mass of her mane from underneath with each stroke. Each night after clearing away the last of their meal, he had been in the practice of tending more to his wife's pampering ever since their children had moved on with families of their own. She enjoyed the time together, often with her eyes shut as they spoke freely.

"Of course we do not believe them, time has proven we must be careful when dealing with them. But we have decided to attend the feast in spite of all our doubts; if we decline, the men would have reason to believe we have something to hide," he paused the comb mid-stroke and added, "and if we do not attend, our men will look back in regret, never knowing the outcome."

Margolin turned to meet her husband's eyes.

"Then it is settled.You must go. The other women and I shall come together and send our brave men into the Coree village with peace offerings of our own."

Removing the comb from his hands, she stood and made her way across their circular home, placing the tool back in its proper place among her other personal care items, such as the necklaces she adored so well. As she ruffled her fingers through a couple of the baskets securely attached to poles, Margolin drew in a full breath before turning her attention back to Itzhak.

"The men are to leave in only two days time, then?"

"Yes. We have a full day of travel between Maramuskeet and the Coranine's village; it is our plan to arrive sometime in the middle of the day so we have plenty of daylight for trading and talking without fear of darkness. Their men have initiated this feast – it is in our best interest to arrive when we are able to absorb into our memory the layout of their village, take into consideration which men come in and out of which homes."

Nodding her head, she had to agree on the wisdom to plan ahead in the event of a surprise attack; once an enemy, always be cautious.

"I have to admit, this visit is not one I feel comfortable sending you into; the process of making peace certainly leaves each side at disadvantages, does it not?"

Raising an eyebrow, he offered his own agreeing opinion by letting out that sound he always made when he went along with his wife's words.

"I would like you to take a look at my match coat before we leave," he snapped his fingers at the recollection of a tear along one of the inside pockets. "Do we happen to own another belt I might take along with me, as well? They are helpful when strapping items together on a long walking trip."

Margolin reached her fingers out and removed his coat from the over-sized basket on the other side of the room, opening the heavy wool square to its full length and width.

Analyzing each stitch,she located the pocket requiring the mending and flicked it back and forth a few times to better understand the project at hand.

"I see the problem right here," she told her husband. "First thing in the morning I shall mend it as tightly as if it were newly made." Glancing out of the corner of her eyes, a slight grin formed as she inquired if anything else needed a good mending.

Itzhak opened a palm to the cool morning air, waving at three other men approaching him from their own homes.

"This is a fine day we have begun to enjoy, what plans do we have today?"

The squatty man wearing asquirrel tail off the side of his breeches leg answered with a grunted requirement for food, to begin with.

"My wife's brother eats too much," he reported not very quietly. "And now I must bring more meat for my wife until he decides to leave again." Shaking his head, the agitated man voiced his opinion that the man visited far too many times and stayed far too long.

Another man craned his head back toward the complainer's home, most likely to see if the man's object of annoyance had come outside yet.

"I do not care if he hears me, maybe we should take him as trade tomorrow," he only partially teased.

In an attempt to change the subject, Itzhak cleared his throat and jabbed a thumb back toward his own abode.

"Margolin is repairing my match coat today; are your supplies in good condition? Make certain your tomahawks are sharp and your feet are well rested, men, as we are sure to need both."

Lowering his voice, he leaned in just a bit. "We will need to speak our thoughts, one to the other, concerning these promises for peace. Long after Margolin passed into sleep last night, my mind entertained me with a few ideas. These words are only for the ears of those men traveling with us."

The Complainer rubbed his belly. "Once my family has eaten, let us meet again near the turkey trees," he pointed, referring to several oaks where the birds perched at night.

Huddled underneath their coats, the men exchanged thoughts back and forth, sometimes running over the other one with a word or two.

"The one thought that remains in my mind is whether or not the Corees hearts are prepared to live peacefully with our people after everything that has already happened; we have made war against one another and taken much spoil along the way. Words in anger have been spoken. Are we to believe they have forgotten all the deceit we shown against one another?"Itzhak's head shook momentarily. "I believe we are walking into a trap, my brothers."

"Yes," his squatted friend swatted at an insect crawling across his arm. "I say the only way we have to protect our families is by taking control of the situation. Neither of our villages number that far over a hundred men, and although we will walk into an entire village, I believe we are capable of overtaking the Corees."

The concept, apparently, had been mulled over in each of their heads, as none of the men's faces showed any signs of shock at his words.

Moments slipped by in silence.

"Then it is so. We shall overtake the Coranine village."

"But what if we arrive in their village to find a festive and cooperative spirit in their people?"

Itzhak ran a forefinger across his chin, contemplating their choices, running various scenarios over in his mind. After all, the man had a valid point.

"Let us attend the feast," he suggested after a few more moments. "with tomahawks."