Free Gear, W Michael - Novel 05 by The Morning River (v2.1)

Dukurika don't?"
                   "Grandmother used to tell me that the Ku
'chendikani had learned so much about horses that they forgot most everything
else that was important."
                   "Such as?"
                   "Such as the way the people used to be.
She says the Ku 'chendikani used to stay in one place, moving through a smaller
territory. They weren't concerned with wealth, with horses and White man goods.
She thought I was a fool for running off with my husband. That I'd be treated
like a pack dog instead of a person."
                   "You've always been different." Two
Half Moons grunted as she resettled herself. "But your grandmother may not
be wrong. I remember my grandmother saying the same thing. She was young when
the horses came. She always thought we were crazy to have chased the Pakiani
out of their lands, pushed them far to the north. But then, we had horses and
they didn't."
                   "And what did it get you in the end,
Aunt? They traded for the White man's guns—and got horses of their own. Now
look what's happened. They've pushed us clear back into the mountains. I've
heard they want to kill us all. When you push on a sapling, you must expect it
to spring back."
                   Two Half Moons chuckled. "You've always
had that way about you. Had your husband not been such a great warrior, someone
like Iron Wrist would have beaten it out of you."
                   "Only once, Aunt. I'd have vanished into
the mountains and that would have been the last anyone would have seen of me."
                   Two Half Moons considered for a moment.
"I can remember my grandmother talking just like that. Perhaps you are
right. We have changed. Horses are things for men, not women. When the elders
died out, so did women's voices in the councils. I remember... yes. In the old
days, the women spoke. They knew the places where the plants grew, where to
find water and which camping spots were good. As the years passed, such
decisions began to be made by warriors. The old camps weren't any good because
they didn't have enough grass for the horses, or the trails were too rough for
horses to travel down the sides of the rim-rock."
                   Willow watched the snow fall and looked for
patterns in the swirling flakes. "And women started doing all the work,
processing the hides, sewing the lodges, carrying the firewood. They became as
captives, more like slaves. Among the Kuchendikani I have seen men who love
their horses more than their women."
                   Two Half Moons frowned in displeasure.
"I've thought about it from time to time. Who doesn't think back as they
grow older? Your grandmother knows what some of the rest of us are too blind to
have seen because it was right in front of us." She shook her head in the
gloom. "When I was young, I told my children about life in the old days.
About men, women, and children working together to trap the animals on the fall
hunt. I told them about roots, and storage pots. And then I told them how much
better life was when men started to ride out on fast horses, and we traveled
constantly in pursuit of the buffalo. I told them that even when we were
starving during the dry years—and starving worse during the bad winters. Funny
. . . how we fool ourselves."
                   Heals Like A Willow knotted her hands inside
her mittens. "Among the Dukurika we starve, too, but it's only when all
the caches have been eaten. And even then we remember to strip the pines of
bark, to lay snares for the elk along the trails to the feed grounds, and to
stretch nets in the trees to catch wax wings. At least we have a little food in
our bellies. Not like the Ku'chendikani, who have to boil their moccasins for
the broth and chew hard strips of leather."
                   Two Half Moons endured a violent fit of
shivers, bowing her head. "What does