The Trickster - Short Story

"Why is my life so long? You have blessed me with eight sans. I have outlived all but one. Creator, you know there is no greater pain than for a father to bury a son. I have been visited by this pain seven times. I buried my wife of 60 years over 20 years ago. You blessed me with 100 years of healthy life. Why could you not do the same for my sons and wife?"

Sam Red Feather was praying by the stream of cool water about three miles from his northern plains reservation home. He had just buried his oldest son who was also his best and most trusted friend. George was 84 years old, the proud father of 18 children-11 sons and 7 daughters-- 50 grandchildren, and 10 great-grandchildren, all full-blooded Native Americans.

Sam was mourning his loss when he heard the cry of a child, "Help me!"

From far in the distance, across the stream and up the slope of a hill, Sam saw a boy. Running from a pack of coyotes who were wearing him down.

The boy, about six years old, was bleeding from the many bites of the coyotes and from falling down many times.

Sam jumped up, grabbed his solid oak walking stick and ran, yelling, towards the boy and his pursuers. Four of the five coyotes saw the old man charging toward them, yelling and swinging his stick. They quickly turned and ran off.

The fifth wished he had turned and run as well. Sam struck him hard, flipping him head over heels down the slope where he lay still, unable to move.

The boy, seeing he was no longer being chased by five hungry coyotes, fell to the ground and passed out from loss of blood and exhaustion.

Sam bent down to check on the young boy. He was seriously injured and in need of medical attention right away or he would die.

The medical clinic was five miles away. He had no phone at his own house which was only three miles away.

After binding his wounds, Sam picked up the small boy and started running across the prairie.

Sam's grandaughter, Agnes, was a doctor at the medical clinic. She and her twin teenaged sons lived with Sam. The boys were the light of Sam's life, always asking questions about traditional life. They were like sponges for knowledge. They listened to his every word and trusted him blindly.

It was hot on this July day. Sam was tired and the boy was heavy, but he knew if he rested the boy would die.

"Creator God, give me strength, save this child." Sam prayed as he ran, thinking not of his tired legs or the pain in his arms and back, but of of his huge family and how lucky he was to have so many people who loved and depended on him.

Dr. Agnes Red Feather saw her grandfather running up the driveway. She ran out to him and took the child from his arms.

"Coyotes attacked him out by Stone Creek," said Sam between breaths and still walking quickly into the clinic.

"Stone Creek? That's over five miles from here! Grandpa did you run all that way carrying this child?" asked Agnes.

"No, we flew on the back of winged buffalo. Yes, I carried him all the way, nonstop from Stone Creek and I'm too tired to argue with you about it. Now tend to that boy."

Old age, with all its aches and pains, can make you a bit temperamental. Being too hot and too tired can make you too mean. The old man sat a while and drank some cool water while his grandaughter tended the boy.

Still needed

After a while, Agnes came out and said the boy would live. But he would have scars and have to start the rabies series if one of the coyotes that bit him could not be found. Or if it was found and tested positive for rabies, he would have to have the rabies series anyway.

"Honey, I'm leaving now," said Sam.

"Wait a little while, Grandpa and I'll drive you home," offered Agnes.

"No, I'm not going home. I left my walking stick at Stone Creek and besides you need one dead coyote. I know there's one near Stone Creek and if he's not dead, he soon will be. And I need to talk with the trickster," said Sam.

"What trickster, old man?" Agnes said in a firm voice that told Sam to answer on the run.

Getting up slower than he wanted to, Sam told his ready-for-battle grandaughter "Coyote, the trickster, made a 100-year-old man think he was a cross country marathon runner.

"Don't worry, honey. If a five mile run across the prairie while carrying a 50 pound child didn't kill me, a slow walk in the cool of the evening won't either."

Sam was out the door and down the driveway before Agnes could come around the counter to stop him.

A century of living taught Sam one thing. A howling tornado is but a summer breeze compared to an angry Indian woman, and the rocks will walk before a stubborn one gives in or lets go.

It was a nice cool walk. It gave Sam time to think. When he got to Stone Creek, he found his stick along with the coyote. He cut the head off the coyote, skinning the body. Then he walked home. He was halfway when his twin great-grandsons caught up with him and took his pack. One ran back to the clinic with the head of the coyote. The other stayed with his most beloved grandfather.

At sunrise the next day, Sam and his twin great-grandsons were on top of a small hill saying their morning prayers.

"Lord God, Creator of all the world, hear me. Thank you for the life you have given me. Now I know why it has been a long one. I am still needed and you have blessed me with more love than anyone can know. I have a purpose. It is to serve you. Thank you Father for loving me enough to let Your son die for me and my people. I know your pain; the death of a son is great but the love of his children makes the pain bearable. You have my love, Father God. Honor to all my relations."

Dedicated to all our elders whom the Creator has blessed with a long life.

COPYRIGHT 2001 Intertribal Christian Communications
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group