Free Follow the Wind by Don Coldsmith Page A

her sentence in the sign talk. “I think now it would be good!”
    When Ramon Cabeza awoke next morning, the girl was gone.

14
    South Wind bent her head at her work of scraping the buffalo skin. She wished not to attract attention this morning. She had already made a grave mistake in looking too happy.
    It infuriated her captor, Lean Bull, to think that she was happy, as she had learned quite early. She made it a point to frequently push him almost to the point of violence by singing at her work. Lean Bull, in retaliation, had tried in all ways to demean her. She had recognized this as his motive last night. He knew full well that, among the People, such use of women was not the custom. He had given her away for the night for the use of a brutal stranger. This would shame her, demean her, and help to break her spirit.
    Imagine her own surprise to find a kind and gentle man who was sympathetic to her plight. She had made a grievous mistake, though, when she returned to Lean Bull’s lodge in the morning looking radiantly alive and happy.
    Lean Bull was furious. He had beaten her and then assigned her to the attentions of his wives. Of course they set
her at the most disagreeable of their chores this morning, that of scraping hides.
    It would ordinarily have been possible for South Wind to appear cheerful, even at this task. She had grown up doing such chores and they presented no problem to her. She had sometimes purposely continued a cheerful attitude, merely to further irritate Lean Bull.
    But not this morning. Today, she wished to be invisible. She must not attract attention to herself, so that she might learn more with which to help the Hair-faces. Her hair-face, she thought to herself, trying hard not to let the joyous tension show.
    She had assumed from the first that some form of treachery was in the offing. Until now, she simply did not care. What concern of hers that her captors might kill this party of strange outsiders?
    Now they were no longer outsiders, in her mind. They were of the far distant tribe of her own chief. This alone could be cause enough to protect them. But she also had a more personal motive. She must at all costs help the young subchief, Rah-mone, who appeared to be the leader of the hair-faced warriors. At least, they all spoke to him with respect. It was pleasing to her to note that a man such as this, with leadership abilities, could still be gentle and considerate. This he had proved last night.
    South Wind wished so hard to help with his problems that she almost hurt for him. However, no bit of information came her way. Finally, finished with the skins, she went to gather firewood. She took a circuitous route through the camp, but heard no new information. She began to panic a little. What if the men of the camp attacked the visitors before she was able to learn of the plan?
    South Wind returned to her captor’s lodge and realized that he had visitors. They were inside the lodge, which in itself was unusual for so hot a day, and were engaged in animated conversation.
    The girl moved close to the side of the lodge cover and busied herself with arranging her armful of fuel on the ground. She could hear the men plainly and none of the women made
any effort to prevent her overhearing. She had gone to great pains not to let her captors know how much of their language she actually understood. If they thought she did not understand, they would ignore her. So she busied herself, assumed a blank expression, and hung on every word.
    â€œThey give many gifts,” a man was saying.
    â€œYes, but they have many more. If they stay with us longer, they will give us more.”
    â€œThey have fine horses, too,” Lean Bull spoke. “If we pretend to help them, they will be off-guard. We can kill them at their first night camp and take all the horses and the gifts also. The Elk-dog people are easily two sleeps away.”
    There was a murmur of approval. South Wind listened further,