Savage Arrow

The fact that she was associated with the evil white man seemed to trouble his uncle. If that white man had not appeared with his horse and buggy, Lone Wing had to wonder just where that conversation between his uncle and the flame-haired woman would have gone.

“I look forward to the time when I will be the one to record our everyday deeds,” Lone Wing said, trying to change the subject. “I am learning quickly, my uncle. I want to please you.”

Realizing that he had become too gruff upon the mention of the white woman, and knowing that Lone Wing did not deserve such gruffness, Thunder Horse reached a comforting hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “You always please me,” he said, smiling. “Always.”

Lone Wing smiled broadly, but they both jumped when White Horse awakened and started coughing uncontrollably.

White Horse’s eyes were wild, and he seemed to be strangling as he coughed.

“Lone Wing! Go for our shaman!” Thunder Horse cried as he bent to his knees beside his father and wrapped his arms around him, trying to comfort him as he continued to cough.

As he felt his father’s body quiver and quake violently with each cough, Thunder Horse was afraid that these might be his final moments with his ahte.

Hawk Dreamer, their people’s shaman, came hurriedly into the lodge. He carried his parfleche bag of healing materials.

“Leave him to me,” Hawk Dreamer said, placing a gentle hand on Thunder Horse’s shoulder. “Step aside. I will make him better.”

Thunder Horse gave his father over to Hawk Dreamer’s care.

He stood back with Lone Wing and watched as Hawk Dreamer ministered to White Horse until finally his coughing was under control and he was lying back down on his bed of blankets and pelts, his breathing shallow.

“He will be alright now,” Hawk Dreamer said, lift

ing his bag into his arms. “He will sleep again and rest.”

“Thank you, my shaman,” Thunder Horse said, embracing him.

“But do not leave him alone,” Hawk Dreamer said. “When you leave, make certain someone else sits with your father.”

“My sister takes my place when I am gone,” Thunder Horse said.

Hawk Dreamer nodded, then left the tepee.

“He is going to be alright?” Lone Wing asked, coming to stand beside Thunder Horse as he stood and gazed down at his father, who was already asleep again.

“For now,” Thunder Horse murmured. “Will you send your ina to me? I want to go and seek comfort and answers in prayer.”

Lone Wing quickly embraced Thunder Horse, gazed down at White Horse, then left the tepee at a run.

Thunder Horse knelt down beside his father again. He gently touched his ashen cheek. “Ahte, oh, ahte, why must you leave me?” he said, a sob catching in his throat. “As I miss my ina, my sweet mother, I will sorely miss you.”

His father did not respond, only continued to sleep.

When Sweet Willow came into the lodge, Thunder Horse rose to his feet and embraced her. Then he stepped away from her and gazed down at their father. “For a while tonight I thought he was leaving us,” he said, his voice breaking. “But he is still with us.”

He gazed into her eyes. “I must go now and pray,” he said thickly.

“I will stay with him,” Sweet Willow murmured. “Should anything change, I will send Lone Wing for you. You will go to your usual hillside, will you not?”

“Ho, I will be there,” Thunder Horse said, again embracing her.

Then he stepped away from her and left his father’s lodge.

He went to his own tepee and changed into breeches and shirt, putting warm moccasins on his feet.

He then ran to the hillside that was so familiar to him. His ina and ahte had brought him there when he was a child and taught him many prayers as they gazed up into the starry heavens or a brightly moonlit sky.

Tonight there were many stars but only a sliver of moon. He felt the spirits all around him as he knelt and began the prayers that always brought such peace and enlightenment to him.