Free Sarah's Heart by Ginger Simpson

girl. Thank you for not leaving me.”
    A quiet whinny was
his response.
    Wolf gazed at the
position of the sun. Too much of the day had passed to tarry longer. If he
could get back to his campsite, there was plenty of water and berries. His side
hurt like hell, but he pulled himself astride Scout and nudged her gently with
his heels. He’d never reach Mini Ska—small water—if he didn’t get going. That
was the name he’d given the place he found as a child—a small outcropping of
rocks creating a perfect shelter along the banks of a creek. It had recently
become his home, and his meager belongings were stashed there, safe from view.
Unless someone searched along the bank, they’d be none the wiser. He had first
used the small cave-like dwelling after his vision quest. He was twelve years
old at the time, but remembered the ritual as if it were yesterday.
    Sioux culture
demanded that when a boy was on the threshold of manhood, he leave all his
worldly possessions and family to commune with nature for four days and four
nights, seeking a vision and an adult name from the Great Spirit. At the time,
Gray Wolf was known by his ‘boy’s’ name, and spent time in a purification
ritual in the sweat lodge. Hot stones were heated and passed through the
entrance to have water poured over them to create steam. Wolf had sat naked in
the enveloping cloud, calling upon the spirits to guide him on his journey. After
the ceremony, the air inside filled with the refreshing smell of the piney
outdoors as sage was used to wipe him dry before he left on his quest.
    Clad only as he was
now, the lad known then as Little Rabbit, traveled away from the camp,
promising to forgo food and drink during the sacred trial. Wolf’s chest swelled
with pride, remembering how he dug his vision pit atop a small hill, and prayed
day and night for courage and wisdom. From this communion came the image of the
animal—H’ota Sunktokeca—from which Gray Wolf took his Lakota name.
    His stomach rumbled
with the same hunger as it had on the fourth day of his vision quest. It was
then, drained of emotion as well as energy, that he practically crawled to the
stream he knew was nearby. After gorging himself on berries and drinking until
his thirst was quenched, he crawled beneath the protection of the overhang and
slept until he was strong enough to go back home.
    Home. What he wouldn’t give to have one. He’d lost
track of how long he’d been camping at Mini Ska. The land purchase took every
cent he had, and the bank expected full payment within six months. What would
he do now ?The money he gave the clerk was earnings
from repairs made to Miss Maggie’s place and helping out on a cattle drive. The
drover who gave him the job didn’t care that Wolf was dressed like an Indian,
and probably smelled like one, too. The man just wanted to get his animals to
market. The experience stirred Wolf’s passion to become his own trail boss,
running his own herd without a middleman.
    A breath of
frustration blew past his lips. Once he got back to camp, he’d devise a plan to
raise the rest of money owed to the bank. Right now, he just wanted a drink and
a nap. Following the furrowed trail east, Wolf clutched his side, trying to find
a rhythm with each jarring step Scout took. At last, horse and rider
synchronized and the pain lessened considerably.
    He had no idea how
far he’d ridden after the buffalo encounter, before lapsing into
unconsciousness, but following the wagon’s highway back toward the river would
get him where he needed to go. All he knew was that he was thirsty as hell and
it was getting hotter by the minute.
      Something in the middle of the trail caught
his attention, but the sun’s heat waves bounced off the hard dirt and squiggled
their way skyward, blurring the scenery. He squinted, trying to determine what
it was, then noticed there was something else—jutting from the tall grass along
side the path. “Hmm, it looks like a boot,