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At his camp, there was much commotion.
"What is going on, Deer Runner?" He asked his oldest friend.
"Your father is considering a bride for you from the Cheyenne tribe. It would unite our tribes and make us stronger, and we would share in each other's' profits."
"I want no wife." Lone Wolf cried. "And when I take one it will be of my choosing."
"It would be good for our people," his friend told him.
"I will not marry a Cheyenne."
"They are a handsome bunch, why would you not consider it?" His friend seemed puzzled.
"Their beauty is only skin deep. Their hearts are colder."
"The one they have picked for you is very beautiful. The most beautiful of their tribe."
"I will pick my own bride." Lone Wolf announced.
"Your father will not be pleased." Deer Runner told him.
"I will hunt, forage, plant, do anything for my people, including die, but I will not marry for them."
"You have another in mind?"
"N-no, not exactly." Lone Wolf frowned. But an idea was planted at Deer Runner's suggestion. He would keep his thoughts to himself. Deer Runner was right, his father would not be pleased about his decision not to marry a Cheyenne. But he'd made every effort to help his people they could not shun him for this.
That evening after an afternoon of fishing with much luck, he gave the fish to Little Feather, one of the women who liked to clean and cook the fish he caught. She was not that pretty, but she liked him and smiled at him all the time. She was a good woman, and would make a good wife, only Lone Wolf felt no passion for her. Of all the Arapaho women, Little Feather was more pleasing to him than any other, yet he still held back. He liked her, but he did not feel what he should for her.
It was wrong for him to lead her on. She was a good woman and she would make someone a very good wife. But he would not make her his. He could not find the love a man needed to make her his wife. What he sought was not Indian ways, but white ways.
He went inside his father's tipi. "I caught many fish, father." Lone Wolf told him.
"It is good. Did you give them to Little Feather?"
"I did. She was happy to have them."
"She admires you. I have seen it in her eyes."
"I know father, but I do not want to encourage her thoughts. She is a good woman, and will make someone a fine wife, but not for me."
"It is time we talked." His father didn't look pleased.
Lone Wolf knew what was coming. He loved his father and considered him a good chief, but this was not something he could do.
"It is time to talk of a wife for you my son. You have not picked one from our tribe. But the Cheyenne have offered one for you. It would mean we could all share in the bounty of their hunts. Uniting our tribes would go a long way in prospering our people."
Lone Wolf's head went down, he stared at the dirt and wondered how he would make his father understand. "I cannot marry one of theirs."
His father looked steely-eyed at him, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. "Not even for our people?"
It was the same argument he always used, making Lone Wolf feel guilty each time.
"Why do you do this father? Have I not done everything possible for our people? Have I not been an obedient son? What I seek is not here."
The old chief grunted, "What have I done?"
"You make me feel guilty. My every thought, every action, must be for my people, and if it is not, I am guilty. Have I not the right to think for myself?"
