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Old man, thy mightiest woe remains to tell.
—Anonymous
The hours seemed to stretch out interminably as Shirleen waited for Blue Thunder to return. She was no longer humming or singing to the old, ailing shaman. He had not awakened, not even for one minute, as she sat there.
And she had noticed at times how shallowly he was breathing. Sometimes he stopped breathing for a moment or two, and then resumed again.
During those moments when he was not breathing, Shirleen had been filled with a cold panic, expecting him to die at any time. If he died while she was with him, would his people somehow blame her?
Would they possibly blame Speckled Fawn for not remaining dutifully at his bedside, leaving another woman there in her stead?
Oh, Lord, Shirleen hoped neither of them would be blamed. Speckled Fawn was forfeiting her time with her husband in order to save an innocent child!
Shirleen’s child!
She cast another glance over her shoulder at the closed entrance flap.
Often today she had heard the hide flutter, causing her to believe someone was entering the tepee, only to find each time that it was only the wind.
Outside the tepee most of the villagers stood vigil, awaiting news about Dancing Shadow.
Shirleen had gone to the flap several times to lift it aside and tell the people that their beloved Dancing Shadow still slept peacefully.
And that was so.
Except for those brief moments when his breathing stopped, the old shaman seemed to be at peace.
She turned and gazed at Dancing Shadow as he continued to sleep.
She studied his wrinkled face.
Surely at one time he had been everything to his people.
But now he awaited death alone, as every man must.
Sighing, Shirleen rose and went to the entranceway. She held the flap aside and gave a reassuring smile to the people who still stood there, awaiting news of the beloved old man.
The day had been long.
Most of those who had stood there waiting had returned to their homes, to share the evening meal with their families.
Shirleen could even now smell the cooked venison and corn.
Only moments ago, Bright Sun had brought Shirleen a platter of food, then left.
Shirleen found it hard even to think of eating. She had so much on her mind that she felt a little queasy.
The ailing shaman.
Shirleen’s daughter.
Blue Thunder.
Speckled Fawn.
What were Blue Thunder and Speckled Fawn doing at this very moment?
Had their plan worked?
