The horse was a-galloping around free now, so I crawled up on the corral fence, waited for my moment, and jumped on his back as he thundered past. He tried to buck me off, but this time I hung on no matter how he ripped and tore and cavorted around. One minute I was up in the clouds, the next I was dropping straight to the devil. I don’t know how long it went on for, but it was the scariest and joyfullest ride I’d had since me and Jim, clinging to our raft for dear life, went a-booming down the Big River in a raging thunderstorm all them years ago.
Then all of a sudden the horse stopped in his tracks. He was still nervious-kneed and all a-tremble, but he dipped his head and snorted like to say I could please to get off if I wanted to. The army would a clapped me, but the Lakota they was silent and stony-faced like always. Maybe it was because I’d spoiled their joke, or maybe because they already had a notion what was going to happen next. The horse he suddenly raired up and sent me skiddering down his back, leaving me hanging on only by his mane and the thong—then away he tore like a house afire! He galloped straight for the corral fence and ripped clean through it, whacking it down with his mighty hoofs, poles and brush flying everywheres! I ducked the flying rubbage and hung onto the big stallion’s neck with my eyes squeezed shut, too scared to let go.
He was on a tear, but he warn’t bucking no more, only galloping, and by and by I was able to peek out at where we was going. We was pounding over a desert, but when I peeked again we was suddenly splashing through a river, then tromping a wheat field, and next on the grasslands, scattering herds a buffalos and yelping coyotes. I had to scrouch down when he run through a low forest, not to get scraped off, then pull my knees up as we raced through a narrow gorge. We hammered in and out a mining and cow towns, Indian camps and army forts. There were gunshots a-plenty, but I judged we was safe, the bullets couldn’t catch us. We was going faster’n I never went before, even when riding for the Pony or shooting down the Big River in a storm.
We run all day and when the sun started to set out a-front of us, the horse barreled towards it, like as if he wanted to go where the sun was going. Or maybe he was racing against it, seeing who’d get there first. It was dropping behind a mountain, and we clumb up that mountain wonderful fast, though we didn’t catch it. There was a lake up there and the horse held up for a long drink. Betwixt swallows, he shook his big head like he was disappointed, and looked all over the sky to see where the sun had gone. I was thirsty, too, but I couldn’t resk getting left behind if I crawled down.
The moon was rising ever so peaceful over the lake in a sky all speckled with stars when we started back down, and I was just setting back for the dreamy ride, when we was suddenly moving flat out again, ripping through the night like we’d ripped through the day. But I warn’t hanging on to his neck no more. I warn’t scared. I was leaning into him, urging him on, slapping his shoulders and haunches, feeling him under me like a part of me. I didn’t know where we was, but I didn’t care, so long as I could stay with the horse. I ain’t never been happier. I didn’t want the night never to end.
We run all night and some a the next day. The rising sun ca’med the horse’s excited spirit and by and by he slowed to a canter and then to a brisk walk. He seemed mighty pleased with himself. Maybe he reckoned he’d won the race after all.
There was a river up ahead, glittering in the morning sunlight, and I walked him over to it. I found I could do this with nothing but my knees and a little tug on the thong. We got down into the water up to his withers and freshed ourselves up. I nearly drownded on the Big River back home, but I didn’t. Instead, I come to love the river, though the river never loved me. That’s how it was with this horse. Ever so splendid and mighty, but indifferent as running water.
Even when it was wet, his coat warn’t a shiny dark, but one that was murky like a secret or like a river at night, witch-dark as Jim would say, and it had lighter flecks like when shore lights glimmered on the Big River’s surface. I knowed his name then.
We moved towards the sun as it rose up over us, and directly we could see the tribe’s encampment. It was scattered out over the plains like pointy pegs on a giant cribbage board. Hundreds of horses wandered among the lodges and in and out of them. It was a welcome sight, but it warn’t home. I didn’t have none. Wouldn’t never.
I was saddle sore without no saddle, beat out and well broke in even if the horse warn’t, but I was setting tall and easy as we entered the camp. They come running out of their lodges to meet us. They all wanted to touch the horse, as if they warn’t for certain he was real, and the horse snorted and shook his head and scared them. They wanted to know what I had seen on t’other side. I says it was mighty lively. They nodded very solemn at that, though I didn’t know what I meant and I didn’t know what they meant nuther.
Later, Eeteh says he was glad I come back, but he didn’t expect me to, so he told them when we went tearing off that we was going to the land of the dead. Coyote was disguised as a horse and he was taking me there to show me the sights. Now they’ll ask me what I seen there, he says, so I should think up what stories I could tell them. I don’t have to make nothing up, I says. I really was somewheres else.
CHAPTER XIII