First Rider's response was to say, "I fear I have not yet spent all of my sorrow. I failed my wife and her father and mother."
Stands Strong didn't answer; although, as soon as their baths were finished and they were dressing, he murmured, "Sun, the Creator, spoke to me in my dream last night and told me to tell you that your period of grief is over. What happened is sad, yes. But, the Creator wishes you to live your life.
"Now, I plead you again," Stands Strong continued. "Come to my lodge. I have spoken to my woman about this, and she agrees with me; our family will gladly welcome you to our lodge."
Because his almost-cousin's invitation mirrored the words of those of his Big-Person almost-mother's, First Rider accepted his friend's invitation and, disassembling his small lodge, moved his quarters into Stands Strong's home.
Yet, it was not an easy time for him. He had been too long alone upon the trail these last four winters to be thrust so quickly into the company of others. But, as the warmth in the Moon of Home Days fell upon the land, his grief gradually subsided, if only a little.
And, though happiness still escaped him, he at least tried to imitate a man of easy laughter. But, alas, it was a facade; he still felt like the shell of a man instead of a living soul.
However, though this day had started out like any other, on this particular morning came a sudden spark of joy. Because of the Pikuni tribe's need to obtain more guns, ammunition and blankets from the white man, they had moved their village south, setting up camp within an easy trading distance from Fort Benton, though it was still a day's ride away. And, shortly after their camp had been pitched, a white man's letter arrived in the encampment; it was addressed to First Rider.
Although he could not read the white man's scratches, Stands Strong's woman, Czanna, could do so, and she gladly translated the letter's words to him:
Me own dearest friend, First Rider, I beg thee to please come to me own quarters where I be staying at Fort Benton. I plead with thee to come quickly. Me own daughter has been injured and has need of thee to help her. Me own self begs thee to hurry. I offer thee all me own horses, including a fast buffalo runner, if thee will but hurry here.
After reading the contents of the letter, Czanna said, "I can hardly believe it. My friend Liliann is injured. I and my husband would go with you, but I cannot, since the chiefs have banned all of us Pikuni women—even we few white women—from entering into the fort. But, you will take my husband with you, will you not? And, you will go at once?"
"Áa," First Rider answered in the Blackfeet tongue. "I will ask my almost-cousin, your husband, to accompany me. I will seek out my almost-brother, Red Fox, and will bid him to make the journey with us, also. Though he is young, he is a goodwarrior and scout. Do not fear. I will suggest we should leave…this very night."
"Soka'pii,good," said Czanna, offering the letter back to him. "Please do hurry. I do not wish Liliann to suffer."
"Áa,soka'pii, yes, good," First Rider responded, and, accepting the letter back in hand, he set out at once to ask his friends to accompany him; they readily accepted. Then, returning to his quarters, he packed up several different kinds of herbs, his medicine drum and mallet, his newly made medicine pipe, as well as other objects required in the profession of a medicine man. He would leave this very night.
As he gathered together his healing medicines and separated them into different tiny bags, he brought up the image in his mind ofOtahki, Ermine Woman, recalling the pretty child from four winters ago who had become like an almost-sister to him. She had only been a youngster of fourteen or fifteen snows then. Would she have changed very much in these last several winters?
"Liliann" was what the white man called her. But, to First Rider, he would always know her asOtahki, Ermine Woman.
He had chosen the name because of the color of Otahki's yellow hair; it was so pale it looked almost white, resembling the winter fur of the ermine. And, Woman, because…well, all Pikuni women's names ended in "Woman."
Their friendship was an odd one, they having become connected to one another spiritually by combining their individual powers in a song, the powerful song of his Big-Person mother. He remembered now how it had been when he and his friend, Stands Strong, had been encamped on Sacagawea Springs four winters ago.
Otahki's father, Henrik, had been shot in the chest by a wicked gold-seeking white man, and, when First Rider haddiscovered Henrik's plight, the man had been near to death. First Rider and Stands Strong, knowing of no other means to heal the man, had brought him to the curative waters of Sacagawea Springs, along with his young daughter, Otahki, and Czanna, who was Stands Strong's intended at the time.
But, Otahki had been a problem to First Rider then because she'd been keeping a vigil, there in the water, by her father's side. The reason she had been a hindrance to him was because First Rider's medicine required no one else to be present when he used his skill, and he had needed every bit of his skills. There was a bullet lodged in Henrik's breast.
First Rider hesitated to approach the girl to ask her to leave, since he knew from experience that she didn't speak the Plains sign language, nor did she understand the Pikuni tongue. And, his own knowledge of English was poor, at best.
Yet, the time was at hand when he needed to test his medicine tosee if he could remove the bullet from the man without the need of poking him or letting the white man cut him open. He would try to speak to the girl.
To this end, he found himself slipping into the small pool, and, coming up behind the yellow-haired girl and tapping her lightly on the shoulder, he tried to communicate by means of sign language what he required of her.
But, she didn't understand, and she merely shook her head.
However, since First Rider required the girl to give up her vigil for a while, he tried to communicate once more, his hand motions a little slower. He had to bring her to understand she must leave and allow him to work his skills as a medicine man. The young girl, however, merely shrugged her shoulders.
He smiled at her and tried to communicate with her in a different way, adding a little of the English language he knew,and, as he signed, he said, "I…medicine man. Must…come out…bullet. You…leave. Medicine man…try…heal."
"I cannot leave me own father," she murmured softly. "How do I know thou will not try to kill him?"
It took First Rider a little time to understand her words, but at last he did, and he said, "He…live. Not…kill. Try…heal."
She began, then, to cry. Again she shook her head.
However, First Rider didn't give up trying, at least not yet. He offered his hand to the girl, palm up. When she didn't take it, he slowly took her hand and placed it in his own. Then, looking down into her deep, blue eyes, he said, "Must…try…bullet…to get. You"—he pointed with his finger to a place close to the springs, yet far enough away so he might do his work—"there…sit. You…watch."
She bit her lip. "Thou will not cut him open?"
