Free A Whisper In The Wind by Madeline Baker Page A

party, armed only with a small hatchet.
    “After they reached the land of the Pawnee, they encountered two warriors returning from a hunt. Both of the Pawnee had guns. Our people charged the Pawnee. Sun Path, who was riding his father’s best war horse, quickly overtook one of the Pawnee warriors, who turned and tried to shoot him, but the gun misfired and Sun Path killed him with his hatchet and took his scalp. The other Pawnee was also killed.
    “Sun Path had completed his vow and he returned to our people, a hero.”
    Michael frowned. “I thought he went out to die.”
    “He did. But he did not die, and his sickness left him.”
    “Because he took a scalp?”
    Yellow Spotted Wolf shrugged. “Who can say?”
    “I think you made that story up.”
    “There is his lodge,” Yellow Spotted Wolf said, gesturing at a tall tipi painted with suns and moons and bright blue stars.
    “Okay,” Michael said, “I believe you.”
    Yellow Spotted Wolf grinned. “The taking of a scalp is important, but more important is being able to ride, to be one with your horse.”
    “I can ride.”
    Yellow Spotted Wolf snorted. “You ride like an old woman. I have a fine gray stallion, but he has not yet been broken to ride. If you can tame him, he is yours.”
    “And if I can’t?”
    “I have an old mare my girl cousins ride.”
    “All right, where’s this horse?”
    Michael was soon sorry he had agreed to try to break the stallion in question. The horse bucked like a rodeo bronc, quickly unseating Michael.
    Word soon spread that Wolf was trying to break Yellow Spotted Wolf’s big gray stallion, and a score of men and women gathered to watch the fun.
    Michael swore softly when he saw Two Ponies and Winter Song in the front of the crowd. He could not give up now. No matter how many times he was thrown, he could not give up. There was more at stake now than a horse.
    But riding a bareback pony was like sitting on a piece of waxed paper, and no matter how hard he wrapped his legs around the gray’s middle, the horse threw him with ease. Michael knew there were places on his body that would be black and blue and sore in the morning, but he mounted the stallion again and again, determined not to let Two Ponies see him defeated, determined to look good in Winter Song’s eyes. Gradually he managed to stay on the horse’s back for longer and longer periods of time. He learned to match his movements to that of the horse, and he began to realize that it wasn’t brute strength that kept him on the animal’s back, but the ability to move in rhythm with the horse, to anticipate its next move, to roll with the punches, so to speak.
    And finally, after what seemed like hours, the stallion stood quiet and Michael was still on its back. Both were sweating profusely and breathing hard.
    Michael smiled faintly. He didn’t know if he’d broken the horse to ride or just worn it out, but at the moment it didn’t matter. He had won.
    He saw the admiration in Winter Song’s eyes, the envy and thinly veiled loathing in the hard stare of Two Ponies, and he knew he had won a great victory. And he owed it all to Yellow Spotted Wolf.
    There was a courtship dance that night, given by the Wohkseh’hetaniu, or Fox Soldiers, one of the warrior societies. There were several such groups, among them the Mim’oweyuhkis, or Elk Soldiers; the Hota’mita’niu, or Dog Soldiers, and the Mahohe’was, or Red Shields, who were also called the Bull Soldiers. The Kit Soldiers claimed superiority over all other bands; both Mo’ohta-vo’nehe and Yellow Spotted Wolf belonged to this society.
    Michael did not hesitate when Winter Song chose him to be her partner in the first dance. Nor did he miss the look of resentment on the face of Two Ponies as he took his place across from Winter Song. Two Ponies was a tall warrior, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. Many of the maidens desired him, but he had eyes only for Winter Song, and everyone in the village knew