Lone Wolves by John Smelcer

of a sled, just like there are words for every part of a snowshoe.
    â€œAnd the main line? Is there a word for that?” asked Denny.
    Sampson chuckled.
    â€œI just tell you, there a word for everything, even the littlest part. You don’t listen very well. But then, you Gramma always telling me I don’t listen to anything she says. The main line is called łitl’uule’. ”
    Denny pronounced the new word aloud.
    â€œVery good. Don’t forget that spot over there,” her grandfather said, pointing his brush at a small place that Denny had missed.
    Denny carefully applied lacquer to the spot, drawing the brush in long, slow strokes.
    â€œGrandpa,” she said. “Do you think I have a chance with an old sled like this? I mean, nowadays, racers use high-tech, lightweight sleds. This one has to be almost twice as heavy.”
    â€œThis a great sled,” said the old man gripping a stanchion and giving the entire sled a shake. “I built it myself. Very strong. Can take a beating.”
    Denny thought she might have hurt her grandfather’s feelings.
    â€œIt’s a wonderful sled, Grandpa. But all those racers have super-light sleds made of high-tech materials. They even got satellite cell phones. Most of them have business sponsors to pay for everything, and they have patches and the names of their sponsors sewn all over their expensive jackets. I don’t have any of that stuff. I’m just an Indian girl from an Indian village with a bunch of Indian dogs.”
    Sampson set down his brush and stood up straight.
    â€œLet me tell you something,” he said, almost angrily. “You gotta be proud of who you are and where you come from. Let me tell you something else. The person who wins, he don’t win because he has the fanciest equipment or rich supporters. Those things can only take you so far. What matters is ciz’aani— heart . You got to have heart to win. You got to want something so bad that you can’t give up, not even an option. When things seem to go really bad, when failure knocks you down and kicks you in the gut, that’s when heart matters most. You gotta dig deep inside yourself to find the strength, to find out what kind of person you are. Yes, the person who wins sometimes has the best equipment. But just as often, the winner is the person who wants it most. You, Granddaughter, have a big heart. Maybe the biggest. I see that in you. That why I’m giving you this sled.”
    â€œBut I don’t have any of the things other racers have. People will laugh at me.”
    â€œIt don’t matter what other people think. I teach you that already. Only heart matters and that never changes just because we got television or cell phones. People give up too easy nowadays. Look around the village and you can see that. You got to work hard for something to appreciate it. Only things that are earned from hard work and sweat mean anything. Don’t quit just because something is hard. You kids gotta learn that.”

    That night, as Denny lay in her bed thinking about what her grandfather had said to her and about the coming race, she gazed at the sled glowing dimly in the yellow light from the flames of the wood stove—the flickering light casting dancing shadows on the walls. Sometime after midnight, Denny pulled out her diary and turned on the little nightlight beside her bed.

    Dear Nellie,
    I think I learned something important tonight. Grandpa talked about how most people don’t appreciate things that come too easy to them. I think I understand what he meant. All the time I see people in the village get free money. They go buy expensive new snowmobiles, and within a year the machine is a piece of junk because they didn’t take care of it at all, because they know they’ll get more free money one day. I remember when I was ten, and I really wanted a new bike. Mother made me work all winter to save up enough money