“Tom Named By Horse and Me—behind the scenes in a writer’s mind—Pt 2”

Howdy Friends,
 

I always knew one day I’d have to write Tom Named By Horse. Or a story like it. Friends who knew me most of my life often insisted I tell the story of those horrid years I’ve come to call “my room years.” Those years locked in that room, the only window painted black, where horrible things happened. Coffee Clutch and Facebook friends know that’s where Winnie The Pooh held my hand in my darkest moments.

I did in fact start a book at the urgings of a woman who lived in the neighborhood during my room years. She’d contacted me about ten years ago, told me the neighbors knew, but like she, were afraid to get involved. With much fear, pain and tears I followed her advice and started a manuscript. I called it, “They knew.” But even as a grandfather when it came time to relive the details as one would be forced to while writing a manuscript, I could not. Even now writing this I’m eight years old again, in that room with a bucket for a toilet, almost no light and scared beyond expression. No, I could never write about those thousand days in that way.

Then in my mind I met Tom Named By Horse. Just as my mind would leave my body during adventures with Winnie The Pooh, and while enduring beatings, I could write about those years in a general sense, by telling Tom’s story.

The years in Tom’s story when he lived in town with a family before the hider bought him, to me represent the years my mother lived. She died when I was about 8. Then my stepmother came along and she didn’t want to, “Look at a freak.”As a little boy some of my deformities were more visible. So the room years started. And the bad things that happened there. The padlock on the door!

When Tom endured the hider’s beatings with whiskey slobber dripping in his face, those are my beatings. To this day I cannot tolerate the smell of beer or alcohol. Or drinking people. Not at all. The reference to Tom’s beatings he suffered whenever he tried to run away, are the very beatings and scars, I endured if ever I told anyone ANYTHING. Yes I went to school, but never, ever, not a single time could I tell anyone anything. But they knew, I found out years later they knew ... I suppose Tom killing the hider to escape represents more than I want to know.

The confusion Tom experiences in the days just after escaping the hider is the confusion I experienced when they eventually dropped me off on the farm when I was 11, where I worked for board and keep until graduating high school. No love there, only work, but no beatings either. It was not a modern farm, we had no running water in the house, one of my jobs was caring water. Still not really in the “world” I remember my school years as more confusion, teasing, name calling. I was backward and smelled of the barn. No one ever sat with me at lunch or any other time, if they could help it.

Some of that confusion exists still with me today. There are things you learn at certain ages and if those times are missed, some things are very difficult to master and often remain elusive. I’d missed a lot in the formative years. This is the same struggle Tom faced all through the years of the Plains Indian Wars, and beyond, a perfect way to represent my confusion.

Just as Soft Cloud accepts Tom and gently and firmly guides, shepherds and loves him, so has my Ravishin’ Robbie done for me. Whatever could be made right, she truly has, and I’m sure much of it was a challenge for her. In a few weeks we’ll celebrate 39 years together and she’s been my rock every day, every moment.

Tom Named By Horse is an historical fiction and I absolutely loved researching and writing it. Some of it though is indeed a telling of, “They Knew.” If you’ve not yet read Tom Named By Horse I invite you to ride the adventure with him, Soft Cloud, Buck, Red Cloud and the others. If you have read it, have another go, you just might discover a few things you missed the first go ‘round.

You can purchase Tom Named By Horse here on Amazon or email me dutchhenry@hughes.net to buy an autographed copy.

Gitty Up, Dutch Henry

"Tom Named By Horse-pt 3"

Howdy Friends, 

Many of our Coffee Clutch and Facebook friends know of my novel. For some, this is the first you've heard of it. Tom Named By Horse is the first of a trilogy about Tom Named By Horse. An Historical Fiction spanning the years from 1850 to1910.  Of course it's a love story, and much more than that ... The first book tells of a young Tom, orphaned on the prairie, sold to a sadistic buffalo hunter from whom he escapes – and immediately befriends Chief Red Cloud's granddaughter. Charged with a mission by Red Cloud, Tom selects the chief's granddaughter to travel with him. And that is just the beginning .... This excerpt is the Second Chapter, and we meet Army scout Buck Hawkins, among other key characters. You can read pt1here… I hope you enjoy, and please leave your comments. Thanks!

Kessy, Saturday and me writing -

Chapter Two 

 “Yo, Buck Hawkins … General wants to see you!” Sergeant Worly scratched his white beard, as he swung up on “Old Bedlam's,” porch, the officers' quarters in Fort Laramie.

“Yea?  Have a seat Sergeant. I haven’t finished my morning coffee. Just got in two days ago from four weeks of scouting and tracking renegades and the only thing I want to ride is this lopsided old chair. Have a cup with me.” Buck pushed his feet up against a porch post, rocked his chair back and forth on its rear legs, and was quite content.

“Can’t Buck. I gotta get to the corrals and look at the new saddle stock that came in while you were out on your pleasure trip.”

“What do you know about saddle stock? The last time you sat a horse we were still a British colony.” Buck smiled wide at the Sergeant.

“I didn’t mean I was gonna ride 'em, I just gotta count 'em. General wants to know how many made it through the renegades his favorite scout told him wasn’t there.

“Well they weren’t there when I was. Because if they were, I’d of seen 'em and run them off.

“You must have just missed ’em. Because they sure gave the Lieutenant and his boys a run for their lives!”

“That's not good. Guess I'd better go see the General.” Buck bounced down the heavy plank steps of Old Bedlam. "Thanks for the warning, Sergeant."

As Buck approached the General’s office, he was a little surprised to find him on the porch.  “Morning Buck,” the General didn't bother to stand.

“Morning, General Sturgis, and a fine morning this is!” Buck tried to set the mood with his wide grin.
“Not if you have to answer to Washington for raided settlements, and missing horses. Buck what can you tell me?”

“Well, we have Arapaho to our East. Sioux and Cheyenne to our South, and renegades and outlaws to our North and West. Go more than twenty miles in any direction, and you'd better have a fast horse.”  Buck took a seat on the rail facing the General.

Buck was a good looking young man and liked to dress in deerskin pants with fringes down the outer seam, and leather moccasin boots. He always wore army issue blue blouses and a dark leather vest. When he walked across the parade, any officer’s wives that happened to be about would surely watch. His sparkling green eyes could pierce a man through when angered, and melt any woman he turned his soft gaze upon. It had been gossiped that Lieutenant Harris’ wife had openly expressed desire for the man, causing a rift to exist between the two men. Although for Buck’s part, it was simply a way to torment a man he considered a good friend

“I need to know where Hooker’s camp town is. There has been a report they raided another settlement near Little Bear Creek and killed three men and stole the livestock. I have dispatched four men to guard the settlement, but we need to do away with the whole bunch. They cause more trouble then the Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Sioux combined. I want you to leave now and find where they hide like snakes in the grass. I want to know their numbers. Buck I want this over.”

“Numbers I can give you now. They have close to fifty, mostly lazy outlaws, and drifters, but they have begun to attract renegade Indians. They say that a renegade Sioux called, Tall Dog, is sending word to all Arapaho, Cheyenne and Sioux villages to join him with Hooker.”

“Well the Sioux and Cheyenne are fighting each other.”

“Not when they can fight you,” Buck pointed his finger at the General.

*********

The old buffalo hunter guided his wagon horses carefully through the narrow pass that led up the last steep grade. His wagon was loaded with the results of a successful hunt. Not just for hides, but whiskey, and guns too, that he could sell to the band of outlaws and renegade Indians. He stopped the wagon in the center of the camp.

The camp had grown into a small town since the old man had last visited. Shacks of board and canvas numbered over twenty, and now there were even women in the camp. “Where’s Hooker?”  Bellowed the hider.

A crowd of mildly interested ruffians gathered around the wagon

“What have you got for me this time, old timer?”  Hooker walked around the wagon pushing the curious aside and trying hard not to get mud on his fancy boots.

“Whiskey for everybody, hides for the Injuns, and ten of these new Henry repeaters. For anybody with gold coins.” The boastful old hider flipped back some skins to reveal a wooden crate.

Hooker ripped the top from the crate and stared at the neatly packed rifles.

“Yeah,” the hider said. “I followed the sutler coming from Fort Laramie after he met with the Army buyer there. I knew he had these rifles along. I got’im talking after a little whiskey. One of them fancy gents thinking he would get rich quick sellin’ rifles to the Army. Fool was too new from the East. Come here representin’ a big Army contract for these new repeaters. So I moved ahead about twenty miles, and when he came over the rise I, well you can just say I put him outa the repeater business and put me right in it. I took these here Henrys and six hundred dollars in gold coins he had on him … There’s gonna be a big shipment moving from Fort Kearney to Fort Laramie, in a few weeks.”

“That, you old cuss, is worth a drink!” Hooker slapped the hider on the back and led the way to the makeshift canvas saloon. Hooker and the old hider settled at a small table in the corner.

“I can tell you this,” the hider held his voice low. “You need more men than you have now. The wagons with the rifles leave Fort Kearney with a cavalry escort of fifty troopers. They’re expected in Fort Laramie by the end of October.”

“Tall Dog will find us more. They’re scattered all over the prairie just waitin’ to kill U.S. soldiers. He can gather fifty in a week. Those renegade Sioux and Cheyenne will follow him anywhere. Almost every day another handful leaves Red Cloud, and wander into the village Tall Dog started just north of here.  What day do the wagons leave Fort Kearney?”

“To get to Fort Laramie on time, they need to get started in a week or two. That many men, horses and wagons, it’ll take those soldier boys a good two weeks to make the trip.”

“What other supplies are coming along?” Hooker’s eyes held an evil glow.   

“You’ll be able to outfit all your men with brand new U.S. Troopers clothes!” The hider wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smiled at Hooker.
“Troopers clothes? New Henry repeaters and new clothes!" Hooker scratched his cheek. "Ha, we’ll have our own army. You get back to the fort and find out when they’re leaving Fort Kearney, and get back here.”

******** 

 I'll be going publishing in a few motnths and am editing now. I hope you enjoyed this look into "Tom Named By Horse" – Please share your comments. I'll continue to share excerpts from time to time as I edit and polish ….  

To Read Pt 4 CLICK HERE  

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

"100th – 5 Star Review for- We'll Have The Summer "

Howdy Folks,

 

My novel, "We'll Have The Summer," received its 100^th FIVE STAR review on Amazon the other day…..I thought I'd share an excerpt from Sam & Mary's story – 

"Sam removed Bullet’s saddle and bridle then turned him free to pick at the wiry grass. Then he simply folded his legs and squatted next to the fire, facing the old Navajo. He sucked a deep breath from the pipe handed him, held the rank smoke long enough to burn his mouth, puckered his lips, and allowed it to drift out. Sam looked across the fire at his dear friend and studied the faded shirt covering shoulders made uneven by the many years, and the deeply furrowed skin sagging around Anaba’s still keen eyes. Such a man was Anaba, that it was necessary to study his worn-out body closely to notice the wear of it. The spirit living in those rich black eyes created a cloaking aura which prevented all but the most determined examiner from seeing the toll the years had taken on the mortal Navajo. But even in the quickest glance, that vibrant spirit was abundantly obvious.

 

“I remember the times I would come here to listen to your tall tales and legends. Now, it seems I only come when…Ah hell, Anaba.” He sucked the pipe.

“We must understand these times, my friend. You are passing through a very difficult and important time. It will not be an easy journey, but like all journeys, it too will end.”

Sam dropped the pipe and held his face. “Like my daughter’s journey ended? How much must one man bear?”

“That is not for us to know. No one of this world could help your daughter for she came into this world with an imperfect body. But she had a good life. Her memories rest in your heart, and her spirit surrounds you and Mary. Do you not agree it is better for her spirit to have enjoyed the happy life she had with you, than to have had no life at all?”

“She was still a little girl. A sweet, innocent young girl who loved life and who was loved by everyone who ever knew her. Why should she have such a short life?”

“We do not know why some travel this world long and some only a short time. I have outlived all my children. And three wives. I have left two brothers in faraway lands, unable to even bring their bodies home for sacred burial. I do not know why I have been asked to live this long life. I do know it is right and natural to sometimes feel sorrow.”

Sam pulled himself up and walked to the edge of the clearing, staring down the vertical wall to the desert floor some thousand feet below. He yelled Mary’s name, fell to his knees and screamed out over the dessert, “I’m not ready to live without you.” He sat very close to the edge, wrapped his arms around his knees, and wept. Then in a broken, sobbing voice told Anaba, “It’s not sorrow I feel – it’s emptiness. Emptiness and anger.”

The old Navajo grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back from the edge, back to the fire. He sat hunch-shouldered and glared into Sam’s eyes, yet his voice was calm. “Emptiness and anger are selfish feelings, and they do no good. They will make you bitter.”

Sam glared back at him. “I am bitter. God-damned bitter.”

Anaba gave him a tender look and handed Sam the pipe. “We will smoke now. We must not speak again until you have a question."

*************************

If you haven't been to Mar-Sa yet to spend time with Mary and Sam, you can buy "We'll Have The Summer" on Amazon here – 

And if you have, you may just want to visit them again.

Have a fun day & Gitty Up ~ Dutch

"Tom Named By Horse- Pt2"

Howdy Friends, 

Many of our Coffee Clutch and Facebook friends know  I'm polishing and fixin' up my novel, Tom Named By Horse. For some, this is the first you've heard of it. Tom Named By Horse is the first novel I wrote, (long before "We'll Have The Summer,") and the first of a trilogy about Tom Named By Horse.  An Historical Fiction spanning the years from 1850 to1910.  Of course it's a love story, and much more than that ... The first book tells of a young Tom, orphaned on the prairie, sold to a sadistic buffalo hunter from whom he escapes – and immediately befriends Chief Red Cloud's granddaughter. Charged with a mission by Red Cloud, Tom selects the chief's granddaughter to travel with him. And that is just the beginning .... This excerpt is from the first chapter, only days after escaping the miserable hider, Tom finds himself in Red Cloud's village, and today meets with the chief. It picks up where pt1 ended last Monday. You can find pt1 here… I hope you enjoy, and please leave your comments. Thanks!

Kessy & me writing - She's my editor

                                                                  **********************

Tom Named By Horse pt2

When the pause came, Still Water turned to Tom and translated. “Today you have proven yourself to be a brave Sioux warrior. You can take your place among the proud Sioux, and you will forever be welcome in our villages. You have saved the life of our great Chief’s son, Iron Shell. Who will one day be chief of all Lakota Sioux.

“You have killed two of our enemy. But there is still one of those buffalo killers that also kill Sioux with guns that can shoot very far. Red Cloud believes you know this buffalo killer. For us you must kill him also. You may have from our ponies any two you choose to keep for your own. Take one day to eat and rest. Then take your ponies, and your gun that shoots today and kills tomorrow, and one brave of your choosing. And go and kill this man. You must leave him naked on the earth as you have the other two. You may keep all that was his, but Red Cloud will have his hair.”

When Still Water finished she searched Tom’s eyes. “You may ask any question,” she told him as if she knew he was confused.

“I do know the hider he speaks of. He would often travel with us. He's a very mean and cruel man.  But why does he ask me to do this? Red Cloud has hundreds of braves in this village.”

Red Cloud understood white man’s English, and gave Still Water his answer. She listened and then said to Tom, “He has many braves who want to kill any white man. That is true. Some of his braves have already gone with the Sioux brave, Tall Dog, to kill whites. Perhaps there will come a day when a great war must be fought with the white man. But today, Tall Dog is wrong, and will only anger the white horse soldiers, who will kill many of our people. In this village, Red Cloud tells his people it may still be possible to share what Grandfather Mystery has given the Sioux. For now it will be better for Red Cloud if you kill this buffalo killer, who hunts Sioux women and old men ... He will hear your answer in the morning.”

Iron Shell and Red Cloud stepped into the lodge, leaving Tom to gaze at the fire and contemplate. Finally he turned to Still Water and said simply, “I am tired.”

Still Water led him to an empty lodge, “In here we have made a place for you. In the morning I will send my daughter to you with something to eat." She smiled. "You have a lot to think about. I'll leave you now so you can sleep and think.”  She raised the flap and walked away, leaving Tom very tired, and much confused. Stepping inside he closed the flap and made a soft bed with blankets and skins. He removed the buffalo hunter’s boots and lay down. He lay awake a long while, watching the fire light dance on the lodge wall, and thinking. He didn’t even know what he was thinking about, he was too tired.

Noise from the village woke Tom from a deep sleep. It was already daylight. He threw back the blankets and hurried outside where he was greeted by a very different sight than the night before.  Everywhere people were busy, building fires, cooking meat, gathering wood. Children dashed after each other and chased their dogs. As far as he could see there were lodges and activity. More noise than he had ever heard hung in the air and trees. All this made his skin tingle. His breath short. He looked toward the horses. He'd rather go there.

Then he saw her. “Hello, I am Soft Cloud. My mother told me to look after you. Are you ready for something to eat?”

Tom studied her, “I don’t know.” He remembered seeing her in the lodge the night before, but in the morning sunlight she was even more beautiful than her mother. Unlike her mother she had long black hair, and her skin was dark. Not as dark as the others, but a lovely light brown color. Her large, friendly eyes were dark brown.

“Well I’ll just sit here then, while you get ready.”  Soft Cloud said.

“Why do you talk English?”

“Would you rather I spoke Sioux?”

“No … no that’s not it. I mean why would a Sioux woman speak English at all … I mean first your mother, now you. Were they your brothers last night? Do they speak English too?”

Soft Cloud giggled a little. “Yes, but not as well as I.”

Still unsettled Tom went on, “How I mean … Why. I just can’t figure it.”

“My mother wanted it. Actually I learned English before I learned Sioux. Although I speak both equally well. I can even read English.”

“You can read?”

“Yes, of course, can’t you?”

Tom dropped his eyes “No, I never got taught. I only ever saw one book.” He looked back at those warm brown eyes, “Why would your mother want you to know English?”

“She understands it is important. Have you found an appetite yet?”

Already Tom was beginning to find it easy to speak with Soft Cloud. It calmed him. The peaceful surroundings of the Sioux village and the gentle company of Soft Cloud were having a strange affect on him. He felt as if he was growing wiser by the moment, and he seemed to understand things more clearly, in a way he had never experienced before. His thinking seemed easier, too.  Never before did he need to organize thoughts, or plan things for a day. While frightening, it was also exciting.

“I think I can eat now,” Tom's gaze fixed on her wonderful eyes.

Soft Cloud left for a moment and came back with a bowl of mush made of wild grass seed and stems of wild tea, and a fat bodied prairie dog. Using his fingers he began, timidly, to eat his meal while Soft Cloud sat patiently nearby, watching him.

“Will you do as Red Cloud asks?” She asked Tom in a soft voice, as lovely as her eyes.

“Yes.”

“And how will you do this?”

“Just go shoot him,” he answered wondering why she needed to know so much.

“How can you be sure he won’t shoot you first?”

“Because that’s not how I see it in my head. This buffalo hunter will be sitting by his wagon, and I will lie down on the ground, and shoot him, and he will die. I can see this clearly, so I am sure it will happen that way.”

“And you can see this?”

Tom finished his meal and took a long drink from the water skin.

Tom left her to find a sunny spot on a rise to watch the horses, and think. The hider must die, not just because Red Cloud asked, but for his own reasons, too. But he'd rather just sit with the horses than kill another man. Why can't he just stay here where it was safe and peaceful? Why can't he just forget the hider? He'd heard an old man say, "If a man looks hard enough for trouble, he's bound to find it."  He never understood what that meant, but today, he wondered if that was what he was meant to do. Look for trouble. He turned from the horses to look back over the camp. The sounds of running, playing children floated out to him. For them? For their safety? Must he look for trouble?

He would take Tom Gray as his saddle horse and use the pair of mules to pull the wagon. Better to take the wagon, he thought, to carry enough supplies in case they are gone a long time. Sitting in the grass, with the sun warming his back while taking in the sounds of the village, and gazing at the horses, and the prairie beyond them, his mind continued to clear. 

There were about five or six hundred horses grazing and engaging in small battles and short chases, each defending their own territory and supremacy. Tom quickly spotted the three mules and recognized his old friend, who was the most comfortable looking of them all, simply eating grass and having nothing to do with chases or battles. It made Tom proud, that even in a herd this size, his big gray horse stood out. He sat and watched them for a long while, absolutely content. So content he fell asleep. Before he fell asleep, he told himself he would have a horse ranch one day. A horse ranch like the one he had seen near Ogallala when he visited there with the old hider.

Tom woke with a start at the braying of a mule. It was late morning so he hurried to Still Water's lodge, hoping to find Soft Cloud.  She was there. “I'm ready to tell Red Cloud my plans, and I'd like you to come with me.”

Nervously Tom waited for her response, expecting her to reject him. Instead she rose. Together they made their way through the Sioux village weaving between low campfires and lodges. They walked in silence past meat racks loaded with buffalo strips, rabbits and prairie dog. Women busily scrapped hides, and young boys cut arrows. This Sioux village had more lodges than Tom could count, but he guessed near two hundred. Today all the activity soothed him, unlike the worry it had given him the night before. Did he belong here? He glanced at Soft cloud.

They stood by the fire waiting at Red Cloud’s camp. Soon Iron Shell and Red Cloud stepped from the lodge, and signaled they should sit. Tom and Soft Cloud sat together across the fire from Red Cloud. His big black eyes stared straight into Tom’s, demanding information.

Tom turned to Soft Cloud and began, “I will ride my horse. I have known him a long time, and I’ll take the two mules and the hider’s wagon. I will take as my brave Soft Cloud ….”

Soft Cloud bolted to her feet. “I cannot be your brave! I am a Sioux woman not a brave!”

“I have heard that the Sioux tell the Crow, even their women can defeat them in battle …Tell him.” Tom meant to offer a compliment but saw instantly he'd failed.

Soft Cloud moved to Red Cloud, they both saw Iron Shell smile. She stood over Red Cloud, her voice wavered. She flung her hands as she spoke. Red Cloud looked at Tom, not able hide his amusement. Tom returned the look, but Soft Cloud caught him.

For a long moment Red Cloud said nothing, just looked at Tom over the low fire. Soft Cloud stood by Red Cloud. She glared at Tom, her brown eyes narrowed to dark slits on her tan face. Since Red Cloud did not respond, Tom continued, “Soft Cloud should choose from the ponies the one best for her. I ask for Sioux leggings and moccasins.”

Soft Cloud stared at Tom, defiance and disbelief radiated from her.

“Tell him." Tom offered a faint smile and remembered from the night before that Red Cloud understood some English, but he wanted Soft Cloud to tell him in his own tongue.

Soft Cloud spoke again. With emotions high, and hands waving, she told Red Cloud the things Tom asked.

Red Cloud sat quietly, and Iron Shell continued to smile at Tom. Soft Cloud stood between them at the edge of the fire. When finally Red Cloud spoke, he looked directly at Tom, with a faint smile on his lips.  As he spoke Soft Cloud became more agitated. She turned to Tom, “Red Cloud is worried because your horse is older than you, and he may not make the trip. But he is not worried that I must go with you!”

Tom didn’t try to hide his smile, “Tell him my horse can smell old buffalo hunters, and Crow.” She turned to Red Cloud and told him, and Red Cloud nodded. Then Iron Shell removed his moccasins, and leggings, and handing them to Tom, he spoke to Soft Cloud.

She turned to Tom, “They will bring you back safe and victorious.” 

**************************

I hope you enjoyed this part of Tom Named By Horse's journey – Please share your comments. Perhaps from time to time I'll post a few more excerpts as I edit & polish for publication ~  

To Read Pt 3 CLICK HERE - 

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

"Tom Named By Horse- Pt 1"

Howdy Friends,

 Many of our Coffee Clutch and Facebook friends know  I'm polishing and fixin' up my novel, Tom Named By Horse. For some, this is the first you've heard of it. Tom Named By Horse is the first novel I wrote, (long before "We'll Have The Summer,") and the first of a trilogy about Tom Named By Horse. An Historical Fiction spanning the years from 1850 to1910.  Of course it's a love story, and much more than that. The first book tells of a young Tom, orphaned on the prairie, sold to a sadistic buffalo hunter from whom he escapes – and immediately befriends Chief Red Cloud's granddaughter. Charged with a mission by Red Cloud, Tom selects the chief's granddaughter to travel with him. And that is just the beginning. This excerpt is from the first chapter, only days after escaping the miserable hider, Tom finds himself in Red Cloud's village. I hope you enjoy, and please leave your comments. Thanks!

Kessy & me

********************** 
Tom Named By Horse –  

They guided the wagon west, never speaking, both lost in their own thoughts. The day faded as they trudged along. Occasionally the brave would offer an outstretched arm, pointing the way. Darkness began to descend upon them, then the glow of many campfires became visible on the horizon. The boy kept the mules stepping out at a good pace and soon they drove into the Sioux village. When the wagon stopped they were quickly set upon by many interested Sioux, other braves, children, and women. Two Sioux women helped the wounded brave from the wagon. A small group of women carried the dead brave away.

He sat quietly watching, as those gathered round the wagon were told of the day's events in a language that he knew only a very few words. He allowed his hand to rest on the revolver at his side.  But was still watching with great interest, wondering how long he would need to sit there on the wagon. Wondering how long they would allow him to live, when a woman came to his side, and in perfect English asked “Do you have a name?”

The young man spun about. His eyes must have betrayed his surprise. “Yes, I speak English well, don’t I?”

“Yea ... I mean ... Do you ...I mean … why do you?”

“Why don’t you tell me your name first?” Her voice was soft and kind. Kind as her blue eyes, and soft as the feel of her hand on his knee. He wasn’t used to anyone asking his name. Or even anyone caring. He had long ago tired of “Boy.” What should he say? Until this very moment, the boy had never thought about a name. It had never been important. He sat looking at her, wondering why a white woman was in a Sioux camp.  She looked like a Sioux, but he knew she was white.

“Well?” she prodded.

“My name is ... Tom,” he said, taking the name of his horse.

“Hello, Tom. My name is Rebecca, but the Sioux call me Still Water. I have been with them many years now, but they still find me mysterious. Which I can often use to my advantage.”

He studied her.  She was a very pretty woman, and very white. She was dressed like the other women in the village, but she stood out with her fair hair, and blue eyes. Blue eyes like his own. 

Now, many hands were going through the contents of the wagon.

“Would you like to come with me and meet my family? And oh, did you know you are a hero?”  Tom climbed from the wagon and followed Still Water to her lodge. He had never been in a Sioux village before, much less one’s tipi. “I have asked a young brave to take care of your horse and mules.” Still Water told him as they walked.

“What will he do with them?”

“He will take them to the prairie where the Sioux ponies graze. The young boys watch over them there.” She raised the flap entrance to her lodge and signaled he should enter.

It was bigger inside than he imagined. Animal skins covered the floor. In the center a small fire made a peaceful warm light, which created dancing shadows on those seated round it. He stood inside the entrance and examined the faces of an old man, two grown braves, and one beautiful face of a young woman. All were seated cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire. No word or gesture was exchanged. Tom stood ridged, as if ordered to. His arms hung heavy at his side. The girl began to giggle, and then the young braves laughed and nodded. Their laughter made him uncomfortable, so he turned and fled to the outside.

From where he stood, Tom could see beyond the campfires, to where the horses were grazing. Thinking this would be a good time to be with an old friend, he found his way through the village to look for Tom Gray. As he hurried along to the moonlit open grassland, he could feel many eyes watching him.

It was a very large herd of horses. Perhaps hundreds. Most of them were boney and ribby. In the dark, with only the light of the stars and a thin slice of moon, he walked among the herd searching for his friend. Having no luck, he let go a loud whistle. Tom Gray responded instantly with his familiar nicker, and they found each other along the outer edge of the herd.

“What have I gotten us into?” Tom sat in the damp grass, watched the horses, and listened to their munching as they grazed. He'd always enjoyed just listening to his friend tear at the grass. This was a peaceful place. A place he could stay forever. All at once, the horses raised their heads, signaling someone’s approach.

“The mother of the injured brave you returned to us is in my lodge crying. Her son died in her arms.” Still Water told Tom in her soft, friendly voice.

Tom stood and faced her not knowing what he should do.

“The other brave you saved today, Iron Shell, is waiting at his father's lodge to meet with you. Come with me I will take you to him.”

He could feel the warmth of the small fires as they walked together through the sleepy camp. Mothers holding their children slept on blankets near their fires. Dogs followed them at a safe distance. Most of the lodges had fires inside, lighting the village in a fascinating way, with shafts of light escaping through slits in the buffalo hide walls, and open door flaps. As they walked along they assembled a line of followers, so that by the time they arrived at Iron Shell’s campfire close to twenty curious Sioux arrived with them.

Iron Shell rose to greet Tom, and signaled a place for him to sit, by the low fire. The ones who had followed formed a half circle behind them around the fire. Tom returned the greeting, and took the seat offered. Still Water found her place next to Iron Shell, who was seated beside his father, Chief Red Cloud.

A brave tossed a pile of branches to the fire, and for a few moments the group watched the flames jump, and a fine display of exploding sparks that drifted high overhead on the rising hot air. A bowl of meal and buffalo meat was passed around, and Tom took a healthy portion before passing it on. They watched the fire and ate for a long while, then when he was ready, Red Cloud turned to Still Water and spoke, using his hands to emphasize almost every word.

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I hope you enjoyed this tidbit – Please share your comments. Perhaps from time to time I'll post a few excerpts as I polish. …. Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

To read pt2- CLICK HERE