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THE YOUNG AMERICAN SERIES
SPIRIT OF THE BUFFALO BY JOHN L. HOUGH Cover Art by Betty Ramirez-Atkins Taken
from Original Oil Painting by Twyla Hough Published by
Renegade Publishing P.O. Box 544 Camp Verde, AZ. 86322 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from both the author and publisher. The characters and events described in this book are fictional. Any resemblance between the characters and any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Renegade Publishing is committed to reducing waste in publishing. For this reason we do not permit our covers to be "stripped" in exchange for credit. Instead we require the book to be returned allowing us to resell it. Copyright 1994 and 2000 by John L. Hough Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Card Number: 00-191941 ISBN - 0-97404050-2-2 Chapter One "I will be careful ma, trust me," Jeremy found himself saying for the tenth time that morning. They had gone over it so many times that he was becoming more than a little irritated at his mother's constant worrying. Since the very moment that his parents had agreed to let him go spend the winter with his adopted Cheyenne family, she had become more and more apprehensive, coming up with one excuse after another why he shouldn't go. Only the argument of spending time with his relatives had finally convinced her, and that had been a flimsy argument at best. He and his blood brother, Runs with the Wind, had done everything possible to calm her fears by describing how quiet and peaceful a snowed in Cheyenne winter camp was. Though he knew very little about it himself, Runs with the Wind had coached him well on precisely what points to bring up. He assured her that the two of them would be spending long days and nights in the lodge of his adopted father, Night Hawk, learning the ways of the spirits and the medicine man. Surely there would be no trouble for them to get into, even if they tried. Cheryl raised her hand and opened her mouth to call out to her son one more time, as the two boys rode away from the cabin through the slowly falling snow. The valley floor was almost totally white, surrounded on all sides by the dark green of the pine trees. All the crops had been harvested, and enough wild grass had been cut and put up to get the horses through the winter. There were several cords of wood stacked in the lean-to, and there was plenty of dried and canned meat in the root cellar to get them through the winter, so even she couldn't put her finger on what it was that made her so unwilling to let him leave. "Let him go dear," John said, placing a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. "He's in good hands, besides the snow will be to deep for them to get into any mischief before you know it." Just then the two boys let out a wild war whoop and raced headlong down the valley to be swallowed up by the early winter storm. A sudden shiver went down Cheryl's spine as a forbidding feeling overwhelmed her. Had she been able to reach her son at that moment, she would have snatched him out of the saddle and dragged him, kicking and screaming if necessary, back to the safety of the cabin. This was going to be a long winter, and even the warm smile on her husband's face couldn't wash away the apprehension she felt as she tried to get one last glimpse of her departing son. Jeremy, on the other hand, felt nothing but sheer exhilaration as the wind whipped at his face and the tiny snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes making it hard to see. Every moment he spent with the Cheyenne people seemed to awaken the senses of his spirit, and stir up deeply buried emotions from beyond the reaches of his memory. Each story of the old days, that Night Hawk told so masterfully, could create such images in his head, that he felt he was actually a part of it. "Yes," Jeremy thought, "this is going to be anything but boring." As they reached the end of the valley Runs with the Wind swung his horse off of the trail and headed south along a well used game trail. "Hey, brother, I thought you said your camp was more to the east?" "It is." "Then why are we going south?" "Because that's where the buffalo are, and you wouldn't want to miss the last big hunt of the season would you?" "Why didn't you mention it before?" "Do you think your mother and father would have let you come if they had known?" "Probably not," Jeremy replied. "This way your mother won't have something else to worry about." "I guess you're right," Jeremy said, squirming slightly in his saddle as though he could feel his mother watching him. "Well, are we going to sit here in the snow all day, or are we going to hunt buffalo?" "We're going hunting of course, but are you sure we can catch the main hunting party?" "We're going to get there first," Runs with the Wind said, beginning to lay out his plan. "The big herd is two days ride south of the village and the hunters will be moving slow so they don't spook the stragglers. We'll ride fast, staying to the west so we can get ahead of the buffalo and cut off their escape. We'll find a safe spot to set up an ambush where the buffalo will come right past us. With my bow and your rifle, and the buffalo so close, we should take many animals for our fathers lodge. Our people will be singing our praises all through the season of snow." "What if we accidentally spook the buffalo first?" "Then they run back toward the winter camp, and the main hunting party takes them by surprise closer to home. Either way, we can't lose." "Seems like you got this all figured out," Jeremy said, sounding more convinced than he really was, "so what are we waiting for?" On they rode, not realizing this was going to be the biggest test of their survival skills, and the toughest winter either one of them had ever faced. The two boys turned their horses back to the south and kicked them up to a ground eating trot. They passed through the forest on an old trail that took them from the high mountain valley down a long ridge and led to the foot hills lining the western edge of the plains. By mid morning it was apparent that this was a typical early winter storm carrying only a little snow that wouldn't last through the day. Patches of blue sky were already showing and the sun was working desperately to burn off, or push away the clouds that remained. The boys rode on at a good pace, swiftly descending out of the high mountains where the heavier snow was falling. By the time the sun was nearly down the warm gentle breeze from the south had melted the last of the snow on the plains and all that remained was the dampness of the air and the ground to tell of its passing. It was then, in the fading light of dusk that they saw the first small herd of about thirty buffalo on the edge of the prairie just below the sparsely wooded hills they were riding through. "Is that them?" Jeremy asked, disappointed at how few animals were in the herd. "No, that's just a bunch of stragglers that drifted away from the main herd. We'll see several small herds like that while we try to get ahead of them. Let's keep going, and be quiet so we don't spook them to early. If they run now, they will be going away from the village." On they rode, through the fading light of dusk until they had gone a safe distance ahead so as not to cause any alarm among the buffalo. As the darkening sky made traveling over the wet broken ground almost impossible, Runs with the Wind turned his horse up a small canyon that led to the west. The scattered trees were thicker here, offering more cover and protection from the weather. After going a short distance he stopped and got down to hobble his horse's feet. "We'll camp here so the breeze will carry our scent up the canyon and away from the buffalo." Jeremy was putting hobbles on his horse also as he looked around for a dry place to sleep. "The ground is still pretty wet," he said, thinking what a miserable night it was going to be. "Over here brother, I see you still have much to learn. We'll sleep under that big cedar tree. See how the bottom limbs reach way out just above the ground? That'll mean the earth is dry underneath, and it's branches will protect us from the wind, and the morning frost." "I suppose we can't have a fire either?" "No, smoke makes buffalo think of prairie fires, and if the wind were to shift, even for a minute, the buffalo would panic. Tomorrow night we'll have a big fire, and all the roasted buffalo hump you can eat." "I can't wait, but tonight we'll have to settle for the biscuits and fried chicken Ma sent with us. Hope you don't mind eating it cold." "I don't mind eating your mothers cooking anytime." "Yea, I noticed that at dinner last night. Just remember, half of this is mine." After eating a cold meal they stretched out their blankets under the boughs of the giant cedar and drifted off into a restless sleep. Both boys dreamed of the success they would have in the coming hunt on the following day, and how proud everyone would be of the plan they had carried out so well to cut off the escaping buffalo. It was going to be something alright. Jeremy could see the two of them
now, returning to camp with the other hunters who were praising their skills,
and the fact that the lion's share of the kill had been made by them. It was a
well thought out plan, with two young hunters eagerly waiting to carry it out.
What could possibly go wrong? Chapter Two It was a cold gray morning, with small flakes of snow already falling as Night Hawk emerged from his tepee to speak with Standing Bear. The chief of the Cheyenne had been waiting somewhat impatiently since waking the medicine man, but Night Hawk was in no hurry to get started. He yawned and breathed deeply of the brisk morning air as he stretched stiff sore muscles, that no longer rested as easy on the hard packed ground that was the floor of his lodge. Thin gray wisps of smoke hung low over the frost covered lodges as a sense of excitement and anticipation filled the air. Even the camp dogs could feel it as they yipped and pulled at the rope tethers that held them in place so they couldn't run ahead and spoil the hunt. All indications for the coming event were favorable and the people were gathering at the south end of the camp preparing to leave. "What do the spirits say?" Standing Bear asked as he looked out toward the plains that were becoming whiter all the time. He too knew the routine that Night Hawk was going through and the reluctance to leave the comfortable warm sleeping robes for an early morning trek across the plains. He was all to aware of how it felt because only a few minutes earlier he had been awakened by Spotted Horse and was also experiencing the stiff muscles that came with age, and the reluctance to start a new day. Neither man was old, but both had seen their prime come and go. It would be time for others to assume their responsibilities in less time than it would take a toddler to grow into a warrior. An eternity for a child, yet no time at all for a man who had seen many winter camps such as this one. "They say we will be successful, but that we must move faster than we had planned. This shouldn't be a real winter snow today but it won't be long before it comes." Night Hawk was pretty sure this wasn't going to be a heavy snow that would last, because the season was still early and the signs leading into real winter were not yet present. However all of this could change within a matter of two or three days, making it necessary to hurry along. "The others are ready, and waiting only for you, and a blessing from the spirits," Standing Bear said, and as Night Hawk turned to lead his horse toward the waiting hunters he added, "Good hunting my friend." As the hunters left camp, the female members of the hunting party followed on foot. They would reach the herd only after the men had finished their part. It would be the women's job to skin and butcher the meat while the hunters stood guard, alert for any danger that might happen by. But for now they would follow behind at a slower pace with an escort of four warriors who would leave them only when it was time to begin the hunt. By the time the main herd was located and plans had been decided on, the women would be close enough to be out of any real danger of being attacked by enemy bands hunting the same herd. Standing Bear remained in the camp with a handful of his chosen warriors to protect the women and children, and the elders who couldn't make the trip. Theirs was the hardest job, one of waiting and not knowing. It was frustrating at times, but a necessary task to insure the survival of the people. Night Hawk led the main party of hunters as they headed south. To the east and west were forward scouts that would warn them of any danger or small groups of buffalo that they might need to circle around. On his right rode Antelope, the brother of his wife Quail, and possibly one of the most skilled hunters in the entire Cheyenne nation. He was tall and lean and though no longer in his prime, he was still a long way from sitting in his lodge when there was hunting to be done. He was a patient and cautious hunter, but Antelope knew it was only Night Hawk's ability to communicate with the spirits that allowed him to read the thoughts of the buffalo, and know what they would do, even before they did. It was an enviable gift for any hunter and Antelope was happy just to hunt at his side. On his left rode Spotted Horse, a young aggressive warrior that was stirring up quite a following of his peers. He put his heart and soul into every endeavor, no matter how small, and would accept nothing less than perfection to come from his efforts. It was evident that Spotted Horse had his goal set on becoming the next Chief of the people, which wouldn't be so bad, if he could learn that war was a necessary evil at times, and not a hobby for young men with too much time on their hands. Also apparent was his deep seated dislike, possibly even hatred of Night Hawk. Everyone knew that Spotted Horse blamed him, for the death of his younger brother, Little Feather. Night Hawk had done everything he could to dissuade the boy from going on a vision quest before he was ready, but Little Feather had insisted on proving to his brother that he was worthy to ride at his side. Now Spotted Horse was convinced that Night Hawk had called upon an evil panther spirit to punish the boy for going against his advice. For this Spotted Horse had silently vowed to get revenge. It wouldn't be easy, because for a Cheyenne to take the life of one of his own people would be unforgivable and cause him to be banished from the tribe. Yet he would get his revenge in a way that would place the blame on someone or something else. Many things could happen to a young warrior during battle or on a hunt such as this, and Runs with the Wind was a very young warrior. If something happened to him, it would crush the old Medicine Man, and Spotted Horse would have twice the revenge. "It's to bad Runs with the Wind isn't here," he said to himself as they rode along. "What?" Night Hawk asked, not certain he had heard correctly. "I was saying it's to bad your son didn't get back in time to join the hunt. I'm sure he wouldn't want to miss it." "Yes, I thought he would be back by now, but there will be other hunts." Both men fell back into the silence of riding along, but an eerie voice kept nagging in the back of Night Hawk's mind, "Why the sudden concern for my son. Spotted Horse has done everything he could in the past to make the boy look bad, and to forgive and forget, is not a part of his nature. I must speak to the Spirits on this as soon as the hunt is over." Yet try as he might to concentrate on the task at hand, the sadistic grin on Spotted Horse's face kept coming back to interrupt the focus of his thoughts. The hunting party traveled at a faster pace than they had originally planned, and by late afternoon when the sky began to clear, they had gone far enough to see some of the straggling buffalo off to the southwest. The hunting party started to swing to the east, hoping to pass by undetected. With a little luck they could surprise the herd early in the morning and be headed home by late afternoon, cutting a full day off of their trip. "Little Wolf," Night Hawk called. Within seconds the eager young warrior was at his side. Night Hawk was proud of the boy who was now hunting for the lodge of his old friend Gray Wolf. Since his father had been mauled by the great bear and could no longer hunt, Little Wolf had stepped up to fill his fathers moccasins, and Gray Wolf had never eaten better. "Go back and tell the women to keep moving. When you join us at sunrise we will be ready." "I'll be back before sunrise." "No need to hurry, look over there." Off to the west they could see the back end of the main herd. Little brown spots everywhere, getting thicker the farther west they looked, until the entire earth was darkened by their presence. "Lead them right to this spot. We will be waiting." Little Wolf wheeled his horse around and raced back across the plains
the way he had come. Whether there was a need to hurry or not he wasn't taking
any chances, there were more buffalo here than he had seen in his entire life,
and this was one hunt he wasn't about to miss. Chapter Three The sun was starting to peek over the eastern horizon as Jeremy and Runs with the Wind crawled out from under the protective branches of the huge cedar tree that had sheltered them through the night. The sky was clear and crisp without a hint of wind in any direction. Renegade snorted and stomped the ground impatiently, anxious to be moving around in the cool morning air. "You should teach him not to do that Jeremy." "Teach him not to do what?" "To snort and stomp. It tells everything, and everyone that you are near." "I see what you mean," Jeremy said looking out the mouth of the canyon toward the prairie. A small group of buffalo were standing only a few hundred yards away staring intently in their direction. They had heard something that didn't belong, but were unable to focus their poor eyesight well enough to identify the cause of the noise. The lead cow raised her head and sniffed the air cautiously, trying to locate the source of the sound. Unable to do so she took several steps toward the canyon and repeated the process. Still unable to detect any danger she returned to graze with the herd. When Renegade started to raise his head to snort again, Jeremy clamped a hand over his nose. Holding his head down while patting him on the neck gave the horse the idea, and he was soon content to sniff the air and munch on the tender grass at his feet. "Shouldn't we get going ?" Jeremy asked almost as eager to be on the way as Renegade. "Soon, the plan was to hit the main bunch when the sun is straight overhead, so we have plenty of time to find a good place to ambush them as they go by." Off to the east they could see the leading edge of the buffalo, followed by a slow moving ocean of brown. There was no end in sight. Runs with the Wind's plan to get ahead of the main herd by staying to the west had worked perfectly. Soon they would be working their way into position. "How many do you think there are brother?" "They are like the pebbles in a creek, you can't see the whole herd at once, so you can't count them. Those that we take for food will be replaced many times over next spring when they come back from their winter home. That is how it has been, that is how it will always be." "I hope you're right, they sure are something to see." "Enough talk, let's go find a place to hide. If we go now we can sneak past that bunch and go south to get ahead of them." Slowly they led their horses along the south side of the canyon, staying in the trees and as far away from the buffalo as they could. Twice they had to stop and stand completely still while the old cow sniffed the air and tried in vain to catch sight of them. After long minutes that seemed like hours she would drop her head and go back to feeding. Once out of the canyon they were able to ride their horses and cover the ground at a much faster pace. Jeremy was amazed by the way Runs with the Wind was able to lead him around the herd without causing them to spook. As long as there was no wind and they stayed a half mile or more away, the buffalo paid no attention to them at all. They grazed along at a slow even pace headed ever southward stopping only once to lift their huge shaggy heads long enough to identify the honking sound of a large flock of geese as they passed over the herd on their way to a warmer climate. Still in the first hour of daylight, the boys spotted what they had been looking for. It was a narrow spot at the south end of a large valley. Here a small stream had cut a path along a wall of shear rock. On the east side of the creek the ground was flat for a hundred paces and then rose abruptly to a height of sixty feet above the valley floor. The west bank of the creek was a sheer cliff some twenty feet high that ran north for a short distance and then turned sharply to the west following the creek. This would allow them easy access and keep the stampeding buffalo from running over them as they made their escape. The valley would funnel hundreds of the animals within easy shooting distance while the cliff would force the rest to go well to the west. Now all they had to do was work their way up the creek to the back side of the bluff without spooking the buffalo that were already nearing the ambush site. It was three quarters of a mile to where they wanted to be, but if everything went according to plan, they had plenty of time to sneak through the trees along the stream, and still might have to wait for hours once they got there before the hunting party attacked. Their progress was slow at best as they worked through the brush and scattered trees. They couldn't see the buffalo from where they were, but then the buffalo couldn't see them either, which made the going a little easier. The sound of distant thunder reached Jeremy's ears as Runs with the Wind whirled his horse around. "Run!" Jeremy followed kicking frantically at his horses ribs. He knew something was wrong but still hadn't had time to grasp the danger of the situation they were in. As they started up the rise on the west side of the creek they could see the whole herd of buffalo was already running in blind panic, headed straight for the ridge they were on. "We have to find a place to hide," Runs with the Wind yelled over his shoulder as he kicked his horse again and again. Racing up to the top of the rise, they had only one small valley left between them and the safety of the mountains to the west. Their horses were laboring hard as they reached the crest only to find the valley to be filled with a raging flood of stampeding buffalo that was beginning to spill out over the edges. The narrow passage along the creek where the boys had attempted to make their ambush had only served to slow the progress of the stampede in that particular area, forming a pocket that left them completely surrounded. They raced on, toward the south, inside the ever tightening circle of the great shaggy beasts that were running in terror. Dust filled the air making it almost impossible to breathe, and the thunderous roar of pounding hooves droned in their ears, covering any effort to communicate. Their horses were beginning to tire, showing signs of labored breathing, they scrambled to keep their feet under them on the soggy uneven ground. Suddenly an old bull tripped when he lost his footing on the muddy soil, and somersaulted several times. With a broken neck, he lay immobile, creating a small dam in the unrelenting flow of the tide. A young cow darted sideways to avoid this new obstacle in her path, and collided head first into Renegade's rib cage, knocking the wind from his lungs, and the rider from his back. The horse scrambled to regain his feet, and as he did so, he vanished like a puff of smoke in the fleeing herd. Instantly Jeremy was on his feet, running blindly through the ever tightening circle, which now was almost completely gone. His mind raced ahead, frantically searching for a place to hide from the crushing hooves that were churning up everything in their path. He felt a heavy blow against his back as one of the buffalo ran by knocking him out of the way. He rolled across the ground, arms and legs flopping about as though they were no longer solidly attached to his body. He had covered only a few feet before slamming into something solid and cold. A boulder, not much, but something to hide behind. As he scrambled around the huge stone he realized it was the beginning of a small outcropping of rocks that ran north and south forcing the buffalo to swerve either to the east or west to avoid being seriously injured or killed. He felt a spark of hope as he looked around quickly and caught a glimpse of Runs with the Wind jumping from his horse at a dead run to scramble for the safety of the rocks. It was not to last, and his heart sank, as he watched his best friends left leg collapse when he hit the ground. In disbelief he watched as Runs with the Wind tumbled head first, just short of safety, then disappeared in the dust under the feet of the running buffalo.
Chapter Four "It was a good hunt," Night Hawk said, surveying the large butchering site. "Antelope and Spotted Horse work well together." "Yes, but it was Night Hawk who knew where to place the hunters for the best shots," Antelope replied. "It could not be otherwise," Spotted Horse stated flatly, wanting to give no credit for the tremendous success to a man he considered to be his enemy. "The buffalo were so many, and so close together that any arrow shot from a hunter's bow had to find it's mark." "Either way," Night Hawk broke in, "all things were favorable today, and it will be a good winter. The season of hunger will be short, if it comes at all." At least two buffalo had been killed for each lodge in the village, and the women as well as many of the hunters had been working most of the day to skin the animals and cut up the huge chunks of meat so they could be spread out to cool. The livers were cut into chunks and eaten raw while they worked, and the choice portions, such as the tongue and the heart, were set aside for the hunters who had killed each animal. The meat would then be loaded onto travois made from the fresh hides and hauled back to the winter camp to be dried, jerked, or made into pemmican for the long winter ahead. On days like this, the work was extremely hard, but the rewards and satisfaction of being well prepared for the season of hunger made the task seem much less demanding. The sun was beginning to settle in the western mountains when Little Wolf rode into the butchering camp from the south, leading two exhausted horses. The work came to a halt and a low murmur buzzed through the crowd as they gathered behind, to follow Little Wolf and the horses to the top of the ridge where Night Hawk stood watch. There was no doubt that these were the horses of Runs with the Wind and Jeremy, and two horses without riders after such a great stampede of buffalo could mean only one thing. "Night Hawk," Little Wolf said with as much reverence in his voice as possible, "I found these horses beyond that long ridge to the south. They were headed this way at a slow walk with their reins dragging the ground. I think they had been running a long time." "Could you tell where they came from?" "Only for a short ways, then the tracks of the buffalo covered everything. I looked around, but I could find nothing." "It will be dark soon, and there would be no chance of finding them, we will finish what we have to do here, and tomorrow I will go look for my sons." Jeremy was an adopted son of the medicine man, and Runs with the Wind was his only birth son, so as long as there was a chance that either one was alive he would look, no matter how small the chance of finding them in these vast plains with all sign of their passage wiped out. "I'll go with you," Antelope said sensing the pain in his heart, even though he refused to show it. I too feel a need to hunt for my nephews." "I will go as well," said Spotted Horse. His desire for revenge wouldn't let him miss the moment when Night Hawk discovered the mangled bodies of his sons, and surely they must be, for no one could survive a stampede of such magnitude. "It is settled then, tomorrow the three of us will go find my sons while the rest of you take the meat and hides back to the village. Now let us finish the work we have to do, I want to be well on my way when the sun comes up in the morning." The men and women went back to their work with less enthusiasm. There was no longer the joking and laughter that accompanied the work after a successful hunt, only an uneasiness that each felt within themselves about the fate that surly must have befallen the two young boys. It was a long night for Night Hawk, who sat alone on the ridge next to a small fire, chanting a prayer to the spirits for a vision that would tell him where to find his sons. For several hours he started, and restarted his prayers to the spirits, cursing himself for becoming lost in his own thoughts each time he lost his place and had to start over. By midnight he gave up and settled into his robe for a short period of fitful sleep. The temporary camp was only beginning to stir in preparation for the long trip back to the winter camp, when Night Hawk headed south with Antelope and Spotted Horse. No one spoke as they rode toward the only spot that could possibly give them a clue about the boys location. Their only hope was that Little Wolf, in his youth and inexperience, had overlooked a clue that they might find. They were high on the ridge to the south, that Little Wolf had pointed out the day before, when the sun finally cleared the eastern horizon. From where they stood holding their horses, they could see vast amounts of the rolling broken landscape, all of which seemed to have been churned up by the hooves of the million or so buffalo that had run past here headed to a warmer, safer place further south. Half a dozen buffalo lay scattered within their view, where they had fallen from exhaustion or merely tripped, to be trampled in the unrelenting flow of the herd. The trail that Little Wolf left behind when he led the boy's horses to the temporary butchering camp, was easy to find, and the three men picked it up without a word and began to follow it backward. Before long they found the place where he had lost the tracks in the maze of buffalo prints. They spread out, several dozen feet apart and began to circle in ever widening loops, scouring the ground for anything that looked like it might be part of a hoof print. "The last tracks we found were where the horses left the buffalo herd and turned back toward the village. That was in that little valley over there," Night Hawk said pointing to a spot a half mile to the west. "So they would have to be somewhere between here and our temporary camp." "There are too many places to look Night Hawk, I think we should split up." "I think so too Antelope, you go to the east as far as you can without losing sight of me. Spotted Horse can go west the same distance and then we will all work north toward that high point there, where we will meet before dark." Spotted Horse rode off to the west almost wishing he hadn't come along now. If either of the others found the boys first, he would miss his moment of revenge anyway and all of this would be for nothing. However if he were to find the boys first, and west was the most likely direction for them to run... "Yes," he thought "I must search everywhere for them." With renewed enthusiasm Spotted Horse headed north weaving his way back and forth across the countryside looking under every bush and in each gully that might be deep enough to hide a body. Long after the sun had reached its highest point, and his hopes for finding the bodies waned, Spotted Horse's sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement near a small outcropping of rocks to the northeast. With new vigor he raced across the open ground for a better look. As he drew closer to the rocks, he realized what he had seen was a young buffalo calf standing over its mother who had apparently fallen during the rush. "Stupid thing will probably stand right there and die," he thought to himself, turning to continue his search. He was ready to ride away when he caught sight of another movement. A hand reaching out of the rocks toward him, followed by the bloody face and upper body of Runs with the Wind. A short plea for help was all he could manage before collapsing back to the earth. Spotted Horse edged closer, now he could see Jeremy too, laying some twenty feet away at the edge of the boulder pile. Both boys appeared to be unconscious and near death. The two halves that made up Spotted Horse were in immediate conflict. One half of him wanted to rescue the boys and be counted as a hero among his people, while the other half wanted to ride away and let them die, so he could have his vengeance. "If only"... his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sight of a rider coming toward the rock outcropping from the east. "Night Hawk," he said under his breath. Slamming his heels into his pony's ribs, Spotted Horse raced out to meet the medicine man. "Did you find anything?" he asked reaching the other rider. "No. I saw movement over by those rocks, but that must have been you." "There is a buffalo calf over there, grieving over his dead mother, maybe that is what you saw." "Well, where do you think we should look next?" Night Hawk was beginning to run short on hope. "That valley to the northeast has a lot of places that might hide someone from a stampede such as that, let's look over there." Spotted Horse kicked his pony and started off without even a backward glance toward the rocks where he knew the boys lay dying, he wanted to lead the medicine man as far away as he could. Night Hawk followed along, oblivious to the world around him as he began to search with his heart and spirit more than with his eyes. He didn't realize that Spotted Horse was traveling to fast to look in all the possible places that might hide the bodies of his sons or he might have been suspicious. |
