Of course, First Rider and Stands Strong had attached themselves to the Pikuni war party, which had numbered a little over fifty warriors. They had been relentless in gaining upon the enemy, even though both First Rider and Stands Strong had already ridden their horses to exhaustion.
The fight that had followed had been a victory for the Pikuni; fourteen of the enemy now lay dead upon the prairie, and it had been done without any Pikuni warrior even sustaining an injury.
Red Fox had then been successful in finding and rescuing their sister—First Rider's almost-sister—from the Crow warrior who had stolen her. After taking possession of his sister'smount, Red Fox had then gone on to accompany both her and one of the other captured women back to camp.
But, such gladness was not to be found within First Rider's heart. He had not been successful in finding and saving his wife.
And so, First Rider and his almost-cousin, Stands Strong, had ridden on—Stands Strong having entrusted Red Fox with a message to his wife that he would return as soon as he and First Rider had rescued the other two women.
But, they were to see no rescue that day.
Although many of the Pikuni ponies had been recovered, no one had seen the other two women—one of those women being Tsistsaki. Tired from the fighting and wishing to return to camp, the Pikuni war party had decided to turn around and ride back to their homes.
But, First Rider could not be a part of those returning; moreover, he was aware of Stands Strong's anxiety about his family, even though his almost-cousin had made no mention of it.
"Almost-cousin," First Rider said. "You must return home. Your family awaits your safe return. Go. Go home with the others. But, I…" He paused. "I must go on. I will not rest until my wife is again in my arms. Relay this message for me to her father, Chief Flying Hawk: I will not quit the trail until I find my wife, who is his daughter. I give him my honorable vow that I will not turn back upon the trail until she is once more safe. Tell him this."
"I will," replied Stands Strong. "I will give the chief your message exactly as you have said it to me." And then, laying his hand upon First Rider's shoulder, Stands Strong murmured, "Sun be with you, my friend. Sun be with you."
This was how it had happened four winters ago, and First Rider had kept his word to his father-in-law, Chief Flying Hawk. He had not quit the rescue trail, though within each of the tribes he had visited or had raided, he had found no trace of Tsistsaki, nor had he been able to discover any word of who had stolen her.
First Rider breathed in deeply and sighed. It felt to him as if he had lived a lifetime in these past four winters, it being a time of utter despair and loss rather than the gentle passing of the winter count. Truly, he still would have been searching for his wife but for a peaceful encounter with an Assiniboine scout who had proved to have knowledge of Tsistsaki and of the man who had stolen her.
According to the Assiniboine scout, a renown warrior from within his band of the Assiniboine tribe had fallen in love with her and had purchased Tsistsaki away from the Crow man who had stolen her. This man had made her his wife. But, Tsistsaki had died recently of the white man's sickness. And, so grieved had her Assiniboine husband been at her passing, the warrior had taken his own life.
The shock of this news had affected First Rider so adversely, he had not been able to bear it; all these years, all his hopes and dreams of finding his woman and bringing her home had been shattered. Despair and the pain of his loss had caused him to retreat into himself, and, realizing he could not return to his people in his current state, he had withdrawn into the crags and cliffs of the mountains that rose up majestically above the prairie. And there, unafraid of the war parties he might encounter, he had listlessly ridden through the forests, the glens and the little patches of prairie growing upon these high places.
Game had abounded there, though he had killed little of it—only enough to survive.
How long he had remained there in the mountains, alone, with only his grief as a companion, he didn't know. In truth,it was only recently that he had felt well enough to seek the blessing of Sun, the Creator. And so, he had prayed, both day and night. And, because he had asked for the Creator's aid, he had sacrificed his most valued possession—his sacred medicine pipe—asking the Creator to give his wife peace and solace in the Sand Hills.
And so, here he was, standing alone upon a cliff overlooking the strange and colorful beauty of Running Eagle Falls, contemplating joining his wife and her Assiniboine husband in the Sand Hills of the dead and departed.
"Do not despair," came a voice from out of the great blue, speaking to him from within his mind. Of course, he knew who the speaker was: it was his spirit-protector, she who had mothered him when he had been a mere babe. Although he rarely called upon her, he knew she was always there for him.
She continued to address him in his mind and said, "Sun, the Creator, still has many plans for you. You have been too long away from your people. There are many friends and family there who worry about you. This loss you feel, though terrible, will pass. Go back to your people, and when you journey there, take this knowledge of the Creator with you. There is still much in this life for you to do. Remember the song of healing I gave you long ago. Sing it again and often to yourself, for it is a healing song."
First Rider closed his eyes, and in the way of speaking with one's mind, he replied, "Thank you, my protector, for coming to me and reminding me of the healing song. But, never had I thought I would sing the song to restore my own health. Please, will you stay awhile with me in your mind and sing it with me now?"
"I would be honored," she replied.
And so, they sang the old, old song of healing, the same refrain this Big Person, his almost-mother, had taught him whenhe had been a mere babe. The melody of the song was strange and discordant, the words resembling different grunts, whistles and humming noises, unlike his own people's songs. And yet, he knew them well, if only because this Big Person almost-mother, though so tall and so huge, had sung this song to him every night when she had held him in her arms.
Yes, he knew this song well, indeed.
