Page 192 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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Women, and a few men, had been moving through the camp, doing the usual

morning chores of any society, lighting fires, starting to cook. As they saw the
white man approach, they stopped and watched, faces expressionless, as he
headed on down to the large teepee.
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He could
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be called to a halt at any minute. But the men and women did not move. He
realised that, after the initial interest, their combined gaze had now fallen on
the teepee which he was nearing from the rear.
He moved slightly to one side, so that he could approach diagonally, and

then reach the entrance flap at the front. As he moved, a figure stepped from
behind the teepee.
‘Captain Bond, what a pleasure to welcome you to our camp; and what a
pity you did not obey my orders two nights ago.’
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‘Where is she, Brokenclaw?’ He stood stock still, holding eye contact with
the huge man who was now dressed in buckskin and wore a long hunting knife
at his belt.
‘Where is she?’ Brokenclaw’s voice was friendly. ‘She is safe, James Bond.

She is here and she is safe. Why, do you wish to fight me for her?’
‘That was my intention. One to one, head to head, Brokenclaw. And I’m
quite willing to do it on your terms. You choose the weapons, so to speak.’
Brokenclaw put back his head and laughed. ‘You think you’re man enough to

be a chief? All right, Captain Bond. There is one way we can find out if you
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have the strength to be a leader of men. Come, I will introduce you to a little
ceremony invented first by the Mandan nation. It was designed for just such a
purpose – to choose leaders. It is called the torture rite of the o-kee-pa.’

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