A Kiowa tale: Coyote and the Stranger

Coyote… here and now, still alive, still plotting, still the sly gray trickster….

Coyote was going along one day, trotting down the desert way, when he saw the dust of a horse and rider.

White man coming! And look at the fancy rig on him!

Well, old Coyote was a shape shifter, of course. In no time, he had taken man-shape, looking just like a poor man of the people, dark skin, black hair. Only his eyes were odd, the mocking green eyes of the trickster.

Did the stranger know him by those eyes? Maybe. For the man pointed right at Coyote and said, “Heard there’s someone around here who fancies himself a cheater. Someone by the name of Coyote.”

Cheater! Coyote thought indignantly. A fine name for someone who set the sun in the sky! “Might be,” he answered smoothly, bland of face. But behind that blank mask, his busy mind was plotting.

“Ha, you’re Coyote, I know it! But I’m a better cheater than you. Ain’t a man alive who can out-trick me, surely not some worn-out old Indian! Come on, try me!”

Now, here was a pretty bird, just asking to be plucked! Coyote grinned lazily, tongue lolling out. “The day’s too warm.”

“Try me! Try to cheat me!”

“No. The sun’s too hot.”