The Drums of Change (22 page)

Soon the sun was shining brightly down upon them, sending dancing heat waves reflecting off the sodden ground. The whole world steamed. The day promised to be another scorching one. Running Fawn felt the chill leaving her body. She knew it would not be long until she would be longing for just a bit of the coolness of the night.

They stopped to rest around noon and ate from their diminishing food supply and drank from the common canteen.

Running Fawn was beginning to feel drowsy with the heat and the lack of real sleep. Silver Fox seemed to notice.

“Perhaps we should stay here during the heat of the day and walk when it begins to cool off.”

Running Fawn nodded, in spite of her inner urgency to keep on the move.

“It will give the blankets time to dry,” went on Silver Fox and rose to unbundle the packs and spread the still-wet blankets out in the sun. At once they began to send little shivering breaths of steam upward.

Running Fawn found a smooth rock and curled up with her head resting on her arm. In just a few moments she was sound asleep.

When she awakened she noticed that Silver Fox had already wrapped up the two bundles. He appeared anxious to be on the trail, and she wondered why he had not awakened her. Now he looked at her, smiled slightly, and asked, “Do you feel better?”

Running Fawn nodded. She felt much better after her long rest.

“I do not think we are far from the river,” he observed. “We can rest on its banks tonight.”

Running Fawn lifted her pack. It was much lighter now that the blankets were dry.

She was ready to go. If they were near the river, then they would soon be home.

As they approached the river she noticed Silver Fox hesitate midstride. His head came up as his eyes swept the slope before them. Fear immediately sent a shivering signal down the length of Running Fawn’s spine as she too paused to search the landscape.

But it was a deer, foraging on the river’s green grasses.

“No,” was Running Fawn’s whispered plea as Silver Fox lifted the rifle to his shoulder.

The gun lowered, and Running Fawn felt her cheeks warm as the deer bounded to the safety of a hidden ravine.

She wondered if she should apologize. She knew Silver Fox’s automatic response came from a tradition as old as time. But the deer had been such a beautiful, graceful sight as it lifted its head and stared at them with solemn, wide eyes.

She was about to open her mouth to speak when Silver Fox turned to her.

“We have no way to carry the meat,” he said softly, as though it had been reason rather than emotion that had sabotaged the hunt. “One should never be guilty of waste.”

Running Fawn nodded silently, inwardly thankful once again that she had not been born male. The role of hunter would be a difficult one. She did not envy Silver Fox his Winchester.

But as she walked, she smiled softly to herself. She had the strange feeling that Silver Fox was not sorry to have a valid excuse for allowing the beautiful animal to bound away unharmed.

By the next evening they were close enough to the Reserve to see campfires and tents in the distance, though not those of their own band. Running Fawn felt her spirit lift and her body gain new energy. Soon … soon they would be home with their own people. Soon life would return to normal. She found it hard to be patient at their walking pace as they pressed on through the twilight.

A small girl on the way to the river for water was the first one to notice the two travelers approaching. She turned and called and soon a woman poked her head out from a tent flap. Running Fawn heard the excited call but was too far away to understand the words.

More women and girls joined the little cluster and looked and pointed and talked excitedly.

Silver Fox raised an arm in greeting and the noise in the camp increased. Children broke loose and came running to meet them. Mothers called after them but it was encouragement, not concern, in their voices.

When they were near enough to hear the words, “Welcome, welcome,” Running Fawn felt her heart quicken and her throat grow tight with emotion.

Soon they were surrounded by the chattering children asking questions and expressing welcome, all in noisy clamor.

“Where did you come from?” “How is your health?” “Welcome.” “Have you had food?” “What is in your packs?” “Welcome.” “Welcome.” “Do you bring gifts?” “Welcome.” “Welcome.” “Welcome.” Silver Fox laughed at the friendly confusion. Running Fawn wanted to bend down and hug each one of the youngsters.

She noticed inquiring glances her way and strange looks on some of the small faces and then remembered that she was wearing buckskins of the Sarcee.

“See,” she explained, pointing to herself. “I have the Sarcee dress—but I am Blackfoot. Blackfoot—like you.” Doubt still showed in some of the eyes.

The women approached more slowly than the children with a more decorous welcome. They, too, noticed Running Fawn’s dress, and she felt compelled to explain again. She recognized none of the people.

They were welcomed to a campfire and given food. A few men had gathered and squatted around or sat on robes or blankets, anticipating any news of the world beyond their borders.

Silver Fox opened their bundles and handed the few items as gifts to their hosts. A blanket to the man, the knife and a small sack of beans to his wife. The canteen to the young son, who beamed with great pleasure. When he passed out the pony’s bridle, Running Fawn wished to protest but she held her tongue. The remainder of the rabbit jerky was given to the children. They shared the treat, chewing off a bite before passing it on to the one next in line.

Silver Fox spoke then, explaining the reason for their long journey and their desire to get home quickly to see Running Fawn’s father who was ill.

Dark eyes darkened further.

“There is much sickness. Much sickness,” they said. “Many die.”

Then one younger brave turned to Running Fawn. “Who is your father?” he asked her.

“Gray Hawk of Calls Through The Night’s band,” she replied.

He thought deeply for a moment, then nodded. “I know. They are on the other side of the Reserve,” he noted.

Running Fawn felt her heart sink. She was home—yet she was not. The Reserve covered four hundred and seventy square miles. If her father was somewhere on the other side, they still had a long way to travel.

The man reached down and with his finger drew a map in the dust at his feet. Silver Fox moved closer and crouched on the ground, his eyes intent on the drawing. Running Fawn, still not recovered from her deep disappointment, was struggling with the thought of further travel.

It turned out that it was not as bad as it could have been. When Silver Fox turned back to her he held up a finger. “A long day’s journey,” he said and seemed pleased with the fact.

Running Fawn tried to look pleased too, but she felt only tired.

That night they shared the tepee of one of the families and left early the next morning before the sun was up. Following the river seemed to be an almost direct route to the camp of their band, and so they traveled along its general course, keeping a listening ear for the gentle flow of the water.

Midafternoon they decided to draw closer to the stream for some rest from the sun and a refreshing drink from the flowing waters.

Silver Fox had just lowered the bundle with their few remaining supplies to the ground and stood to stretch his muscles when Running Fawn gave a little gasp.

Silver Fox jerked upright and turned to look in the direction her finger was pointing. There stood the pony, head up, ears perked forward, riverbank grasses hanging from the corners of his mouth.

“Amazing,” said Silver Fox in English and started toward the small animal, Running Fawn close behind.

The pony did not seem to be harmed by the storm. Silver Fox ran his hands over his back, his neck, his head, and on over his withers and down his legs. The horse flinched on a few occasions but only as he might have done to dislodge a pestering fly.

“He has a few lumps,” observed Silver Fox, “but nothing serious.”

“Little Giant,” murmured Running Fawn, passing a hand over his stout neck and ending with an affectionate pat, “we thought we would never see you again.”

She turned to Silver Fox. “We have no bridle.”

“You have the cord,” he reminded her, nodding toward the bundle. They moved toward the small pack, Silver Fox leading the pony by a handful of his mane.

“Do you still wish to rest or should we go on?” asked Silver Fox after the cord had been fashioned into a bridle over the pony’s head and around his nose.

Running Fawn knew he intended that she would ride again. The sun was very hot overhead, and she realized that Silver Fox too must be warm and weary. As much as she ached to be back on the trail and that much closer to home, she nodded toward the nearby cluster of stunted willow and said, “Let’s rest a bit.”

He nodded and handed her a blanket from the bundle and laid the other aside for himself.

Then he made a hobble of sorts from the pillowcase that had not been discarded. It was no longer a snowy white, having been used in many ways along the dusty trail. Running Fawn knew she would not be able to return it but would need to replace it. The ladies at the boarding school would not be wanting such a stained and torn item back.

The hobble would not have been needed. When Running Fawn opened her eyes later, the pony lay on the grass a short distance from the two forms on their blankets. He seemed as pleased to see them as they had been to see him.

Soon on their way again, they passed tents or simple houses and exchanged greetings with their occupants. Running Fawn found it hard to not linger for a chat, even though she was impatient to be on her way. It was so nice to be hearing her own familiar language.

They did not make it to their own group that evening but joined another family for the night, shared the meal from the cooking pot, and visited around the fire.

Running Fawn was welcomed into the crowded tent, but Silver Fox declined and slept in the open. There was little room in the tent for extra bodies.

Early the next morning Running Fawn arose, stepped carefully over sleeping forms, and joined Silver Fox. Her heart beat rapidly. By the time the sun was casting a full shadow, she would be with her family, her father.