Free Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) by Shirl Henke

were filled like this,” Sees Much said.
           “There must be thousands...too many for the mind to take in,” she replied in an awe-filled voice. A small calf, newly dropped, gamboled beside his mother. Roxanna smiled. “Why, he's a different color than the rest.”
           “All newborns are yellow. Their fur darkens with age—all except the white buffalo, which is sacred to the People.”
           As they spoke, other women, children, and the men too old to hunt, assembled quietly along the rim of the escarpment. The buffalo, with their poor sight and hearing, did not notice, since the people were careful to approach downwind. Then the mounted warriors appeared below them, walking their horses slowly forward in a wide arc, forming a semicircle amid the northernmost tier of the vast herd. Unconsciously, Roxanna searched for Cain's distinctive figure. Sees Much followed the course of her gaze and smiled, saying nothing.
           For several moments the great beasts continued to graze obliviously. Then the wind shifted to the south and a muffled snorting echoed across the plain as the bison sensed danger. In an abrupt shift of mood, the placid herd erupted into a frenzy, their sharp hooves pounding across the hard-packed soil like thunder. Thick clouds of dust enveloped them and the yipping Cheyenne stretched out on their horses in swift pursuit. Shots rang out erratically, mingled with cries of triumph as several of the buffalo went down.
           “The new rifles work well,” Sees Much said to Her Back Is Straight. “It is good that the Lone Bull brought them.”
           Straining to see Cain through clearings in the dust, Roxanna's attention caught on the words “Lone Bull.” Her head jerked around and she looked at Sees Much, startled. “You called him the Lone Bull?”
           “That was the name his mother Blue Corn Woman gave him. Always as a boy he was an outsider, proud and stubborn in the face of the other children's cruelties to one who was half white.”
           Roxanna blanched, remembering her dream. “Last night you said you didn't know why I dreamed about a lone bull with bloody horns.”
           “The Powers have not told me what the blood means yet,” Sees Much replied with a troubled sigh.
           “But you knew who the buffalo symbolized,” she persisted.
           Sees Much nodded. “I saw a silver-haired woman in a dream two moons ago.”
           “Me?”
           He smiled. “Yes, child, you—and it was clear that you would be the means to bring the Lone Bull back to his people...if only for a little while. There is a healing which must take place...” His words faded away as if he meant to speak further, then reconsidered.
           Roxanna started to question him, but then saw Cain's chestnut, galloping hard as he approached a big bull. Weasel Bear cut in just behind him. Both men seemed intent on bringing down the same prey. Cain reached it first, leaning over with his Spencer aimed at a spot behind the beast's shoulder. Roxanna watched the quarry go down when he fired. Then Weasel Bear caught up. Shouting an infuriated oath, he swerved his piebald into the chestnut's side, raising his rifle butt and clubbing Cain hard in his back.
           A loud gasp tore from her throat as Cain was knocked from his saddle, vanishing into the thick dust and sharp hooves of the stampeding herd. “He'll be killed!”
           Sees Much closed his eyes, seeming to pray as the dust swirled. They stood by helplessly. Roxanna stared, trying to find the chestnut in the melee. Then she saw Cain. His left foot must have been caught in the stirrup, but rather than being dragged to his death, he had clawed his way back, hand over hand up his own leg, seizing the sudadero , then gaining purchase on the edge of the cantle, finally seizing the pommel until he could throw his right leg up and remount.
           Cain