Page 5

And so, he sang and he sang, always beating his drum.

The song went on and on until, at last, he felt ready to try to remove the bullet, and he stopped his song.

But, upon ceasing his singing, he heard the song still, and it was then when he realized someone else had been singing along with him, only at a higher pitch.

It was the girl.

Glancing up at her, he smiled, then waded to the shoreline where she sat. Facing her, he took up the rhythm again and beat his drum as his voice joined hers, amazed to hear the girl reciting the strange words, as well as the grunts and strange sounds of the song.

His attention was so caught up in the need to heal this man, he didn't stop to wonder how this young white girl knew these strange words well enough to sing them with him. He only considered how her voice, added to his, aided him in healing the man.

Then, without fanfare nor any warning at all, he felt his shadow, his very being, touch hers. There it was. For a moment set out of time, he understood her, and he knew she understood him. Indeed, he could see clearly how alike they were to each other.

He wondered if she knew she could be a healer.

At last, they both stopped their chanting, and they gazed at one another, neither acknowledging nor saying any words at all. And, had he the means to speak her language, he would have told her how precious her help was this night.

In her honor, he gave his drum and mallet to her, saying only, "Safe…keep…them…for me."

It was, indeed, an honor he was bestowing upon her, but he didn't know how to convey the meaning of what he'd said, and so he merely smiled at her.

When she nodded, he gave her another grin, then turned around and waded through the water back to the white man.

He began his song once again, hearing her sacred echo of it, and then he placed his hand palm down over the injury but not touching it, and, using a circular and pulling motion, he sang and he sang to Sun, the Creator.

Because his eyes were closed, he didn't see how it happened; he only knew what had taken place because the object jumped suddenly up into his palm as though it were attracted there.

Quickly, he placed his fingers around the bullet, and, in relief, he sighed.

Then, bringing up his hand, he spread his palm open.

There it sat: the bullet. It was bloody and black, as would be expected, but it was now in his palm, not within the white man's body.

But, the wound was now openly bleeding, and, taking handfuls of the healing water, First Rider let the water take away the "evil spirit" of the bullet, as well as the "bad wishes" of the one who had shot the man, Henrik.

Turning slightly around, First Rider motioned to the girl to come forward. She did so, and as soon as she had come in close to him, he asked, "Strip…of…skin…deer. Need…now. You…can get?"

"I will try."

He was about to turn back toward the white man when a thought occurred to him, and, stretching out his arm toward the girl, he opened his palm and showed her the bullet.

"Aye, sir," she said. "I saw what thou did. It was as if thy palm pulled up the bullet." And, then she cried.

Reaching out, First Rider caught hold of her hand and, turning his palm upside down, let the bullet fall into her hand. He said, "You…keep. You…helped. Good…omen…this. You keep."

"I will," she said, her lips shaking as she spoke. "I will get thee a skin of the deer, also. Thank thee." And, then she cried again and was gone.

First Rider watched the young girl as she came to her feet and then sprinted toward the only other woman in camp—Matsowá'p, Czanna. Because he knew Matsowá'p was wise in many ways, he felt assured he would soon have the skin he required to help stop the flow of blood.

She was a pretty girl, this daughter of the white man, and someday, he thought, she might make some man a good wife. He, however, did not include himself in the role. He was already in love with the beautiful daughter of Chief Flying Hawk.

And so, they had become connected to one another spiritually. He remembered, too, when Otahki and her father had been required to stay at the Pikuni camp because of having no home elsewhere, and how Otahki had followed him most everywhere in camp.

Back then he had looked upon her as he might one of his almost-sisters, he being indulgent as she had tagged along behind him when he was in camp.

But, always in the back of his mind, he knew she might be more than an almost-sister because of their spiritual connection, but what this was, he didn't know.

And so it was now that, despite the serious reason for his need to trek to the fort, the message from Otahki's father uplifted First Rider's spirits, and a true spark of gladness came into his heart. He would see his friend, his little almost-sister again.

Unexpectedly, and without warning, a premonition came to him, and it was a strange one. Intuitively, he felt that not only would he help Otahki, in some way she would aid him, also.

It had always seemed strange to him how close he had become to the girl those four winters past, since she had been little more than a child.

At the time, he remembered thinking about the bizarreness of Otahki…

a beautiful, but aloof young girl who could sing the strange sounds and words of a song with him, even though the Big Person's song was unmelodic.

She had medicine, this girl. It was this recognition, alone, that made the girl's peculiarity make any sense to him.

Oddly, too, he didn't doubt that it had been Otahki's voice and her spirit, added to his, which had helped him to heal her father, since the man's injury had been serious.

Still, unique though she might be, merely thinking of the young girl caused his spirits to rise. Soon they would be reunited with one another.

But, there was another factor to be considered regarding Henrik's message: he had offered to pay First Rider several horses for the healing ceremony—presenting First Rider with all of his horses, including a pony that was well known amongst the Pikuni to be a fast buffalo runner.

Despite this, as soon as he could, First Rider would decline the offer.

Though First Rider did not understand it, Otahki was a part of him. He would do what he could for her—it requiring no payment from her father.

It was odd, though. After learning of Henrik's offer of the ponies, a strange thought had flashed through First Rider's mind, that perhaps it would be he who would be giving horses to Otahki's father sometime in the future. Only, for an entirely different reason.