The Drums of Change (34 page)

The midday sun had picked up a little warmth. Running Fawn made her rambling way over the cold, browned prairie, bending now and then to add another chip to her basket. She found it difficult to concentrate on the simple daily chore. Her thoughts kept returning to Silver Fox.

He had promised that soon she would no longer need to make the daily treks for fuel. She would be burning coal. He had come first to her fire upon his return from the city. He was pleased that she now shared his faith. His eyes had danced. His hand had gently touched her face. She pressed her hand against the very spot, remembering his touch. Holding it to her.

Now if only …

But she had to be patient. Had to hold herself in check. There was nothing she could do. It was up to Silver Fox. He would decide if she was indeed to become his wife. The one who shared his campfire. The warmth of his tepee against nature’s storms.

But is was so hard to keep her thoughts on what she should be doing. No matter how much she willed her mind to stay with her task, it kept switching back to thoughts of Silver Fox.

“I must build up the fire,” she scolded herself. “Perhaps, with God’s help, Father will be successful in the hunt today.”

Some of her joy momentarily slipped away as she thought of the unsuccessful hunts of late. Yet, they had not gone hungry. As her father continued to declare, God always provided—enough. Enough for the cooking pot. Enough blankets against the chill. Enough hides to dress for new buckskins. Yes, enough. For that Running Fawn was thankful. But on many days, stretching what they had to make it enough was most difficult.

But God would continue to care for their needs, she declared inwardly and her face brightened. Just as she had read in the morning’s Scripture passage, “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory, through Christ Jesus.” It was a wonderful promise.

Running Fawn turned her steps and her thoughts toward home. If her father had been blessed with success he may be home soon. She would start the fire.

The sound of an approaching rider caught Running Fawn’s attention from the small flame she was coaxing into life. Her father was early. That would mean a successful hunt.

But it was not her father’s horse that was moving briskly toward the camp. Running Fawn recognized the mount immediately as the pony of Silver Fox.

She lifted herself from her stooped position. Standing perfectly still she raised a hand to shade her eyes against the setting sun. Her heart began to flutter within her. She had not expected him back so soon. She knew the duties of the young chief consumed his days and he would have his exciting report to give to his council. Then there would be much to do to prepare for the opening of the mine.

As he drew nearer she could see that he had a bundle in front of him across his mount, but her curiosity never drew her further. Her thoughts were too busy with the fact that he was coming again to her fire.

Her hand dropped to her side, limp and lifeless, just as she herself seemed to be, except for the rapid pounding of her trembling heart. Had he come to tell her that he had reconsidered—that he was making other arrangements? Was he—?

He dismounted in one easy motion and hoisted the bundle from the back of the pony to his own shoulders. He lowered the robe to the ground and began to unwrap the contents. Running Fawn silently watched the proceedings, willing her heart to begin beating again.

It was fresh venison wrapped in deer-hide that he drew forth from the heavy buffalo skin. Still without speaking, he lifted it up in his arms and moved silently toward her. With his eyes looking deeply into hers he extended the offering. The renewal of his promise of long ago.

She was too moved to speak. Too filled with joy to form words. A small tear trickled down the soft curve of her cheek. She answered the look in his eyes with a steady gaze that did not need to lower in confusion or embarrassment. She understood perfectly well his message. The hint of a smile belied the tear as she reached out her arms to accept his gift. His promise. Their fingers touched briefly as the exchange was made and his eyes held hers. She wondered if she saw a tear glistening in his eyes as well.

And then he turned and was gone, but she did not call to him. Did not worry. She knew that he would soon be back.

With a confident smile she reached up to wipe the tears of joy from her sun-warmed cheek and straightened her back to her fullest height in the way of her people. Her heart sang with the song of the released spring-waters when winter snows were first melted by the strength of the warming sun. Man With The Book would soon be performing a wedding ceremony.