Free Conquering Horse by Frederick Manfred Page A

leanedahead to ease up the choking loop, then, whistling low, touched his heels to the horse’s flanks. Lizard responded, docile.
    No Name rode up to his father, smiling.
    Redbird smiled too. “I see my son has forgotten how to whistle like a gopher.”
    “I taught him a new song instead, my father.”
    Speaks Once turned to his stub of a son. “You see? Here is a child who has first listened to his father and then has gone and done it his own way.”
    White Fingernail’s lips bubbered. His eyes flickered with envy. Then his eyes steadied and his glance shifted to No Name’s chest. “There are some I know who have not yet cried in torment.” “Enough,” Redbird said. “We will now have the race. Will White Fingernail ride Swift As Wind?”
    At that a smile flashed over White Fingernail’s face. “I will.”
    While they waited for Lizard to catch his breath, Speaks Once and Redbird fell into a talk about horseflesh. Speaks Once was envious of Redbird’s big herd. He had but fifty to Redbird’s two hundred, though the fifty made him the second most wealthy man in the band. Speaks Once secretly hoped that his son would prove to be a brave and lucky horse-raider so that he could build up his herd. Speaks Once was often heard urging his son to go out on raiding parties. He also secretly hoped that No Name would continue to be without a vision, at least until he and his son had built up a wealth comparable to Redbird’s.
    Speaks Once asked Redbird if he had any horses to trade.
    “What have you to give?” Redbird asked mildly, looking aloft.
    “In my lodge lies folded a buffalo hide. It has white hair. It is wakan. I will give it for Swift As Wind.
    Redbird considered a moment; finally, as if with reluctance, shook his head.
    “With the white hide tied around his belly the gray stallion will breed many war horses invulnerable in battle.”
    Again, as if with reluctance, Redbird declined it.
    “The white hide will help the gray stallion father many spotted colts.”
    Redbird pushed out his lips to show he didn’t think much of the notion.
    There had been an argument in the council over the white skin. It was the custom of the Yanktons to offer the skin of a white buffalo to Wakantanka. It was considered a bad thing to keep such a wakan hide as a private possession. Many in camp believed it was due to this sacrilegious act on the part of Speaks Once that so few spotted colts had been born to the Yankton mares the past year. The Yanktons desired paints, because, besides being showy, they blended leopard-like into the landscape.
    Speaks Once next pointed to a lively sorrel grazing nearby. “I have this to give for a thin mare.”
    Redbird looked; considered; shook his head.
    “The sorrel holds his head very high. He throws his feet forward as he walks.”
    “But his tail is too broad. Also his veins are coarse.”
    “He has a white spot in his left eye.”
    “But his hooves are also white and soft. And his withers have sores.”
    “Sores?” Speaks Once cried. His thick-lipped face darkened over. He was always one to bristle when it was suggested he was cruel to his horses. Yet it was true. He had more than once out of whim deliberately ridden a horse to death. Further, he had little mercy for horses who developed saddle sores. “It is the sores of the fly that bites deep that you see. Many horses have them.”
    Redbird looked back at his own herd, and fell silent. It was easy to see that the deep-biting flies were partial to the flesh of one certain herd.
    Speaks Once caught the look. To emphasize what he said he kicked over a pile of buffalo droppings lying underfoot. “Bull dung does not lie. It is as I have said.”
    Redbird still held silent.
    Then Speaks Once turned to his son. “Hold the race horses for us until we return. I wish to show the chief and his son a certain thing.”
    White Fingernail took hold of the reins of both Swift As Wind and Lizard. “I will, my father.”
    Speaks Once led the