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He knew they understood the importance of this animal to their people. Due to the whites killing off buffalo, the herds had been thinned out. When one did have the opportunity to hunt one, it must not be ignored.
“My warriors, this one is mine,” Brave Wolf said, only loud enough for them to hear. He did not want it to travel on the wind to the bull.
“It is mine to kill, but everything about it will be equally divided among us all,” Brave Wolf was quick to say.
He needed this hunt to help take away some of his uneasy thoughts about Mary Beth.
He would shoot the animal himself, but leave two warriors behind to take from it what they could as he rode on with the others to continue their search for the child.
His warriors nodded, but they still notched their own bows with arrows in case they were needed to protect their chief if the bull happened to corner him.
Brave Wolf notched his own bow with an arrow from his quiver.
He rode in a slow lope toward the bull, and just as he came close enough to shoot, the creature lifted its head, snorted, and turned to run in the opposite direction.
Brave Wolf gave chase.
He placed the reins in his mouth, holding them between his teeth, and anchored himself solidly on his steed as he thrust his knees tightly into its sides, then rode with his bow and notched arrow ready for shooting.
When he got close enough, and he could see through the cloud of dust that the bull’s hooves were kicking up, he leaned toward the animal.
He carefully aimed and then loosed the arrow from his bow. The bowstring twanged in the early morning air.
He smiled when the arrow flew true and struck its mark in the bull’s side. The bull fell quickly to the ground, then, snorting, managed to get to its feet again and began running through some spruce trees down to the edge of a creek.
Brave Wolf followed. He slung his bow over his shoulder and took the reins in his hands. The bull stopped, slumped to the ground again, then surprised Brave Wolf by getting to its feet again and lumbering onward.
This continued over and over again until finally it fell still beside a tree.
By then all of Brave Wolf’s warriors had come up behind him. They stayed on their steeds as Brave Wolf dismounted.
He hung his bow over the pommel of his saddle, then slowly, carefully, stepping clear of the hip-deep ferns, inched his way over to the bull.
He was careful because he could see that the bull was still breathing, its sides heaving, its life’s blood pooling on the ground beneath it.
Just when Brave Wolf thought that the bull was dead, and he had stepped up to it, he saw its tail move, and before Brave Wolf could draw his knife to finish the kill, the bull had leapt to its feet and slammed into his chest, throwing Brave Wolf onto his back on the ground.
The bull stood there, staring at Brave Wolf and shaking its head.
Red froth dripped from its mouth and its eyes had turned red with blood, yet it still lived.
Before any of the warriors could ready their bows with arrows, the bull pawed the ground and switched its tail, then leaned down and with its nose turned Brave Wolf over onto his stomach.
Just as it was ready to stomp on him, a warrior dragged Brave Wolf out of harm’s way as four others sent a volley of arrows into the bull’s side, downing it, this time, forever.
Brave Wolf leaned up and saw the arrow-riddled animal.
His heart pounded as he thought how close he had come to being mauled by the bull. From now on, he had to keep his mind clear of everything but the hunt.
He had been thinking about Mary Beth when he went to stand over the bull, thinking that some of the meat would feed not only her, but also her son, because he was determined to find David today.
That moment of distraction had almost been his last.
“You are alright?” asked Blue Thunder, a favored warrior, as he helped Brave Wolf to his feet. “My chief, you were not as careful as usual. What if you had been alone?”
“Hecitu-yelo, yes, what if I had been alone?” Brave Wolf said thickly.
He wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. He looked at those who had saved him.
