A New World Begins

The Scream

Shane sat bolt upright, struggling to free his arms from the confines of his sleeping bag. It was still dark. His heart was pounding, his breathing was fast, sweat was forming on his brow and his stomach sinking as the adrenaline rush coursing through his body wrought its work, preparing him for fight or flight.

Someone had screamed.

Shane’s brain fought to process the blood-curdling sound, to identify it.

Travis had screamed.

Shane was vaguely aware of Noah and Will, as yet just indistinct shapes as his eyes struggled to adapt to the dark, sitting up too. A flashlight came on. Will’s flashlight. The intense xenon beam illuminated first Noah, who was holding Travis’s revolver, pointed firmly down at the ground, then Travis. Travis was sat up in his bag, his face as white as the frost on the ground around their camp.

“Lion,” Travis gasped. “It licked me. Its face was right over mine. Its eyes were gleaming. I could smell the stink of its breath. It licked my face.”

Will shone his flashlight around as both Noah and Shane managed to climb out of their bags. Noah had the revolver in his hand but kept it pointed firmly downwards.

“Tracks,” said Will. “Look, there in the frost. Lion tracks coming out of the trees and right over to Travis’s bag.”

All eyes followed the beam of Will’s flashlight. A row of prints, paw prints, claw prints, could be seen in the sparkling white frost, stretching the ten or so yards from the treeline to Travis’s basha, then pausing, before heading off again back into the treeline.

Travis, who by now had his rifle in his hands, stared hard at the tracks.

“Thank fuck for that,” he said and burst out laughing. “Those are badger tracks. I’ve just been licked by a badger.”

Noah, Will and Shane all exchanged glances as Will kept the flashlight scanning the treeline.

“Are you sure, Travis?”

“Are badgers dangerous, Travis?”

“Will it attack again, Travis?”

Travis double checked that the safety catch on his rifle was still ‘on’ and placed it back down alongside his sleeping bag.

“You can put the revolver away too, Noah,” he said. “We’re safe. It was only a badger. Just a badger.”

Noah carefully put the revolver back under his makeshift pillow and stepped closer to Travis’s sleeping bag, inspecting the tracks. “It was only small,” he said. “I don’t know the difference between lion and badger claws but this was a small animal. So, I guess it probably was a badger.”

Travis was still looking very relieved. “Those are definitely badger prints,” he said. “Noah’s right too. It was a small animal. Badger sized, not a mountain lion. Look at them closely. Will, shine the flashlight here. See how they come out from under the trees? All spaced close together? It was walking real slow and cautious. Probably curious to know what we were. We must have looked like giant bugs or grubs to it.”

“Craig always referred to his sleeping bag as a maggot,” said Shane, his voice still sounding slightly nervous.

Travis laughed and continued. “Yes, the badger might have thought we were a Thanksgiving treat. Giant maggots or grubs for it to feast on. It must have licked me to see what I was. Fuck, did that scare me! Horrible breath and little beady eyes staring down at me.”

Everyone laughed, letting off nervous energy.

“Then when I screamed, it bolted. Look how far apart those footprints are heading back to the treeline. It was galloping! Must have been as scared as I was…”

“I bet it’s home in Wisconsin by now,” said Shane.

* * *

It had been just after five when Travis had been awakened by the badger and, after all the excitement and talk, it was clear they wouldn’t get much sleep before it was time to get up again at first light, around six thirty. When Travis suggested that they might as well stay up and watch the sun rise over the Great Plains no-one took much convincing.

It was cold, with a keen ground frost, and so the fire was quickly re-lit. By the time it was crackling, Will had got the coffee pot sorted and Noah had assembled all the ingredients of a good breakfast from the supply bag: hash browns, bacon, onions, tomatoes and eggs. Before long these were all sizzling away in a large pan, Noah fastidiously flipping and turning everything regularly to ensure they were evenly heated and didn’t stick. He didn’t seem to have added magic ingredients when they were looking away, and they were all sure they had never looked away, nor did he seem to have any special technique for the flipping, but everyone knew it was going to be one of their best ever breakfasts.

The first fingers of pink began to creep over the eastern horizon just as Noah deemed himself satisfied everything was cooked to perfection. Tin plates were quickly passed around and Noah portioned out the food to everyone as Will topped up the coffee mugs.

“Imagine being here just over a hundred years ago,” said Travis between mouthfuls, “This time of year the cowboys might have been watching the sunrise too just like us, right here, gathering the cattle together for the last big drive of the year over to plains to Chicago and the railhead there.”

“Why’s that?” asked Shane.

“The stock would have been destined for the big meat processors in Chicago, Shane. It would have taken a few weeks to drive them all the way to the Chicago, then they would have been either processed or taken live on trains all over the country, but mainly to the big cities like New York just in time for the Christmas. Yup, the last big cattle drive of the year.”

Shane nodded thoughtfully.

“We made our money doing that since the 1870s,” continued Travis, “Though now we do most of it ourselves. We slaughter, process and ship the meat all direct from our farms, cut out the middlemen. Always keep quality right at the top level too. Margins are too small at the bottom of the market, but there’s always people can pay money for premium beef.”

“You sound like the economics teacher,” laughed Will. “Any bacon or onions left, Noah?”

“We do seed too, that’s a big income for us. Grow the best corn and wheat, which is why we monitor it with almost daily flights, but keep the finest back for the next year’s seed corn. We sell that to about every farm worth speaking of in the west, and some in Canada too. People can get cheaper seed than ours, but not better. We increase their yields, give better drought resistance. It’s worth the premium they pay, increases their profits in turn.”

“I guess that explains the ‘rich parents’ bit of your name,” said Noah, putting the last rasher of bacon on the plate Will was holding out and dividing up the final two hash browns so they could all have a half each.

“But what about the other bit, the ‘wiggly waggly?” asked Shane, “Brave Truth Speaker.”

“Wowicakhe Woglaka,” said Travis.

“Yeah, that bit…” laughed Shane.

“That’s from something else,” said Travis evasively but even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t get away with just dismissing it. Three sets of eyes were drilling into him, gathering in the first rays of sunlight, focusing it back on him.

“It’s complicated,” he said, “And it goes back a long time.”

Noah, Shane and Will just nodded.

“The land here, we bought it fairly, right from the Government back in the 1880s. But really, it was never theirs to sell according to the Lakota people. The Lakota don’t recognise land ownership. Land is just there, for everybody. But the land was ceded to them in the Fort Laramie Treaty to provide a home for the Sioux Nations. Then the Federal Government stole it back after re-doing the treaties in 1877 and sold it to the farmers who wanted it. We got some. At the time it was considered right.”

“Yeah,” said Will, “I remember doing this in history a while back at junior high.”

“At first,” said Travis, “We were just like the other farmers. Drove the ‘injuns’ out and worked the land. That changed after the massacre at Wounded Knee. Great Granpappy was disgusted by that. He was no sentimental old fool, he’d paid for the land and wasn’t going to give it up, but he started employing Native Americans on the farm. Paid them fair too. Started to see the Lakota in a different light. Eventually became kind of friends with Grey Bear’s father. Didn’t necessarily make us popular with the other farmers. Things were different back then.” Travis paused, then said quietly. “They haven’t got a whole lot better in some places even now.”

The guys nodded at each other, taking in what Travis was saying.

“But what about your Indian name, Travis?” asked Will impatiently. “What does that have to do with the Land Thefts and stuff?”

“I’m getting to that bit.”

Travis looked around, took in the sun, now a bright shining half disc on the far horizon, its fragile light casting long shadows across the plain beneath them, already starting to take the shape from the crystals of frost surrounding them. It would still have the strength to hold winter at bay for perhaps a week more.

“Life here for the Native Americans ain’t no bed of roses, guys. For every one that has a good job and respect, there’s more that are still poor, still looked down upon. Not many prospects. Dad employs as many as we can and gives preference to them over other folk.”

“About a year ago, some guys from my school, a few years older than me, and their bigger brothers got into starting some trouble. Picked up a Native American girl in their car one night, gave her lots of drink. Took her out into the hills. I stumbled across them when I was riding our boundary, checking some fences pop wanted looked at. She didn’t want what they were going to do to her. They invited me to join them. Just laughed, offered me a beer too and said, ‘She’s just an Indian.’ Like she didn’t matter.”

As Travis paused, drawing up his courage to carry on, Shane, Will and Noah looked silently at each other.

“There were four or five of them, all much older than me, seniors most of ‘em. I wasn’t sure what I should do, but I knew what I shouldn’t do. So, I pulled my rifle out, told them clear off our land. They just laughed. Until I shot the door of their car. They weren’t in it, but it spooked them. They jumped in and got the hell out of there.”

“What about the girl, Travis?”

“She was okay, sort of. They hadn’t done anything to her yet except get her drunk as a skunk. She hadn’t really got much idea what was going on. I gave her my blanket to keep warm and rode up a hill, got a radio signal back to home. Dad and a bunch of workers were there in no time. The police turned up soon after. State police arrived first, sent for by the boys who were claiming I shot at them. Dad had sent for Reservation Police. Some of our farm is on the reservation. I guess really, all of it is. The Reservation Police and State Police argued for a while, but the Reservation Police won out and I was taken home. I think the State Police were secretly glad not to have to get involved.”

“What happened after that?” asked Shane. “The girl, was she okay?”

“She was good, Shane. They took her home.”

“Did you get into trouble for shooting?” asked Noah.

Travis paused again, drew a deep breath.

“No. Not from the police anyways. I hadn’t tried to shoot the boys, just scare them. I shot completely the other direction to where they were. I just put a hole in their truck. Their parents were keen to keep things quiet. Wanted it all brushed off as just a misunderstanding. The State Police were okay to go along with that. Said it was their word against hers as what really happened and she was so drunk she didn’t know. It would never get anywhere in court.”

“I don’t think that was right,” said Will.

“Me neither,” said Shane.

Noah nodded in agreement.

“I didn’t,” said Travis. “So, I told the Reservation Police I would testify about what I saw if she couldn’t…”

“Did they get sent to jail, Travis?”

“No, Shane. It didn’t even get to trial.”

Again, Noah, Will and Shane exchanged glances but didn’t press Travis. They knew he would tell them in his own time.

“The girl couldn’t testify, she was too drunk to know what was happening. So, it came down to my word against the boys. Two of them were over eighteen, so legal adults. They had great lawyers too. I was outnumbered and a kid against adults. Everybody that mattered was against taking it to court. I’m not saying the State Police were on their side too, but they sure as hell weren’t on her side. Everybody knew it would get dismissed on day one. Best just to pretend it had never happened.”

“That’s tough,” said Will. “But I can see why. I guess it would have made you and your family a lot of enemies too.”

“That’s not where it ended, Will. I had to do the right thing. Pops backed me all the way. The Reservation Police filed a case. I went to court and deposited a sworn statement. That meant something had to happen. The boys made a counter filing. Said the girl was never with them. That they found her drunk by the roadside and were planning to take her home when I showed up. They said they thought my gun had gone off by accident and that I had made up the story to try and cover up that I was careless with my gun.”

“That’s rubbish,” said Shane. “You’re never careless with your gun. That’s just totally wrong.”

“I know,” said Travis. “Everybody knew. But that didn’t matter. They had a good counter argument against me, the girl couldn’t testify. It was my word against theirs and no real proof of anything expect a bullet hole in their truck. The judge threw it out in under an hour. Nobody even had to go into the court.”

“Most people didn’t actually seem to care,” said Travis. “I lost a lot of friends when I said I would make a statement. Made a lot of enemies when I actually did it. But it was the only thing I could do. The right thing.”

The guys remained silent as Travis took another deep breath.

“It’s partly why I am at Allegheny. When it came to starting High School it was best for me not to go school here. There’s a lot of resentment about what I did. Sure, Allegheny is probably one of the best schools there is, so when I graduate I am almost certain to get a place at any University I want to study Agriculture and Bio-Sciences, and I’ve always quite wanted to go to a military school and there aren’t any round here, so that ticks a box too. But most important, it’s not a school here…”

For a moment no-one spoke, then Travis smiled and turned to Shane. “So, you see Shane, when old Grey Bear and Mikasi and all the other ranchers talk about me joining the cavalry and chasing them off their land, they was just making fun. They gave me a name the day I went to make that filing. A Lakota name. I think Great Granpappy would be proud of me. I know my pop was. They let him watch the naming ceremony.”

“A real naming ceremony? Wow!” said Will. “Did you have to smoke a pipe and kill a mountain lion and have tomahawks thrown right alongside your head and stuff like that?”

Travis grinned mischievously at Shane and Noah, then turned towards Will and looked serious.

“I can’t tell you, Will. You’re not Lakota.”