witnessed her parent’s deaths. No wonder she went
into shock. To make matters worse, she was carrying someone’s
child. Coping with the knowledge that he might have been different
was hard enough, but this? This hurt more. He left the wagon to
think and his mother walked Daphne to her wagon. An explanation
would have saved him a lot of grief.
Seth went into the tall prairie grass and
did something he had not done in years. He wept and then he became
a coward and stayed away, but he had seen the sadness in Melissa’s
eyes when he had bumped into her a few times. He tried avoiding the
young woman but it was
impossible sometimes. He probably gave her
the impression that he was angry at her when he didn’t speak but it
wasn’t Melissa he was mad at; it was himself for being such a
coward. He was braver when he believed he was sinning in his heart
for lusting after a boy. Now, though relieved she was a girl, he
couldn’t get rid of the picture of another man being inside of her.
He was tormented by the knowledge that she was carrying someone
else’s child when it should have been his.
36
NINE
Blue Thunder picked up a pile of shafts that
were measured and cut for proper length, bark peeled away. He had
made sure they were straitened of any cures, shaved with a knife to
make his arrows as identical as possible. He notched one end for
fletching, and grooved on the other for a piercing head. Strong
sinew and glue made from buffalo hooves for securing the points was
also gathered; no part of the bison went to waste. During the long
winter months, he chiseled stones onto arrowheads, a chore he
enjoyed. Now it was time to go hunting.
He laid his weapons outside the chief
Dasodaha’s huge dwelling and called out, “May I enter?” When
permission was given, Blue Thunder ducked inside and said, “Father,
I am going out to scout with a few of the tribe’s men,” he declared
in his Athabscan language. His father had pretty much mastered the
art of the white man’s tongue but he refused to accept the changing
times.
“I hope my son finds the buffalo; the deer
you killed last week was enough for us and your aunt, but our
bellies are growing hungry again.”
Blue Thunder made a rude sound, disgusted
with the white men massacring the animal for skins then leaving the
meat to rot on the plains. His people do not waste any part of the
huge beast. They also needed many hides, tallow, meat and bones to
make scrapers for hides, and salt
from the desert to trade
with the Pueblos for pottery, cotton, blankets, turquoise, corn and
other goods. The Apache’s gorilla war tactics came naturally to him
and his people were unsurpassed. Seldom Apaches went to war, but
often went on raids to punish their enemies. Albeit, they struck
fear in the hearts of Pueblo tribes, they had managed to maintain
generally peaceful relations with their neighbors. But sometimes,
when a brave saw what he wanted, he simply took it. Among the
Pueblo villages, Apaches were known by another name, Apachu, “the
enemy.”
He had heard of the war going on between the
north and the south. In his heart he prayed that the white savages
kill one another, but it did not stop many of their kind from
traveling west.
37
Though the Apache often warred, killing his
own kind was wrong in his mind. He was a proud White Mountain
Apache, and his people were a fierce fighting nation; he could not
change what was in his Indian blood any more than he could change
the dry land into greenery.
“...and to keep… Son? Your head is in the
clouds?”
“Huh? Blue Thunder was a few words back.
“Sorry, my father, I will be gone awhile, be safe while I am
away.”
Dasodaha grumbled. “It is not I you have to
worry about.” He slapped him proudly on the broad back. “You are
twenty-one summers, and developed into a handsome man. It saddens
your father that my son’s mother never lived to see what we had
created. Is Star Gazer joining you and the men?”
into shock. To make matters worse, she was carrying someone’s
child. Coping with the knowledge that he might have been different
was hard enough, but this? This hurt more. He left the wagon to
think and his mother walked Daphne to her wagon. An explanation
would have saved him a lot of grief.
Seth went into the tall prairie grass and
did something he had not done in years. He wept and then he became
a coward and stayed away, but he had seen the sadness in Melissa’s
eyes when he had bumped into her a few times. He tried avoiding the
young woman but it was
impossible sometimes. He probably gave her
the impression that he was angry at her when he didn’t speak but it
wasn’t Melissa he was mad at; it was himself for being such a
coward. He was braver when he believed he was sinning in his heart
for lusting after a boy. Now, though relieved she was a girl, he
couldn’t get rid of the picture of another man being inside of her.
He was tormented by the knowledge that she was carrying someone
else’s child when it should have been his.
36
NINE
Blue Thunder picked up a pile of shafts that
were measured and cut for proper length, bark peeled away. He had
made sure they were straitened of any cures, shaved with a knife to
make his arrows as identical as possible. He notched one end for
fletching, and grooved on the other for a piercing head. Strong
sinew and glue made from buffalo hooves for securing the points was
also gathered; no part of the bison went to waste. During the long
winter months, he chiseled stones onto arrowheads, a chore he
enjoyed. Now it was time to go hunting.
He laid his weapons outside the chief
Dasodaha’s huge dwelling and called out, “May I enter?” When
permission was given, Blue Thunder ducked inside and said, “Father,
I am going out to scout with a few of the tribe’s men,” he declared
in his Athabscan language. His father had pretty much mastered the
art of the white man’s tongue but he refused to accept the changing
times.
“I hope my son finds the buffalo; the deer
you killed last week was enough for us and your aunt, but our
bellies are growing hungry again.”
Blue Thunder made a rude sound, disgusted
with the white men massacring the animal for skins then leaving the
meat to rot on the plains. His people do not waste any part of the
huge beast. They also needed many hides, tallow, meat and bones to
make scrapers for hides, and salt
from the desert to trade
with the Pueblos for pottery, cotton, blankets, turquoise, corn and
other goods. The Apache’s gorilla war tactics came naturally to him
and his people were unsurpassed. Seldom Apaches went to war, but
often went on raids to punish their enemies. Albeit, they struck
fear in the hearts of Pueblo tribes, they had managed to maintain
generally peaceful relations with their neighbors. But sometimes,
when a brave saw what he wanted, he simply took it. Among the
Pueblo villages, Apaches were known by another name, Apachu, “the
enemy.”
He had heard of the war going on between the
north and the south. In his heart he prayed that the white savages
kill one another, but it did not stop many of their kind from
traveling west.
37
Though the Apache often warred, killing his
own kind was wrong in his mind. He was a proud White Mountain
Apache, and his people were a fierce fighting nation; he could not
change what was in his Indian blood any more than he could change
the dry land into greenery.
“...and to keep… Son? Your head is in the
clouds?”
“Huh? Blue Thunder was a few words back.
“Sorry, my father, I will be gone awhile, be safe while I am
away.”
Dasodaha grumbled. “It is not I you have to
worry about.” He slapped him proudly on the broad back. “You are
twenty-one summers, and developed into a handsome man. It saddens
your father that my son’s mother never lived to see what we had
created. Is Star Gazer joining you and the men?”
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