Sacajawea by Anna Lee Waldo

attached to the underjaw of the hunting horse served as a bridle. When the women arrived, they quickly set up camp at the junction of the eastern and middle fork. Looking from the crest of the hill overshadowing the main river, Grass Child could see how the Old Muddy broadened out on the untimbered valley plain. The eastern fork was more rapid, but not as deep nor as wide as the others. 3
    The men now motioned the women to leave the temporary camp and follow a little behind them up the northern bank and along the western fork. Then the men all moved out and forded the river, signaling for the women to wait there. The buffalo herd was close; the smell was rank and sharp. The Agaidüka hunting party was now about four miles up the western fork. The women remained quiet with their own thoughts. The few children who had been allowed to come stayed in little bunches, bragging to one another about the prowess of a father, brother, uncle, or grandfather.
    The blue sky and scattering of white clouds were reflected in the pools of clear river water near the banks.
    Willow Bud poked her elbow in Grass Child’s side. “My father will get most.”
    Grass Child countered, “Mine will give away most.”
    Rain Girl said, “Maybe our brother, Never Walks, will get a buffalo. Did you see how he rides a horse more gracefully than he walks on his own two feet? He’s meant to be on horseback.”
    pity his woman— if he ever gets one,” giggled Willow Bud.
    Fragrant Herbs scowled fiercely at the three noisy girls. “Hush! No one will get near a buffalo if you chatter like sparrows and giggle like loons,” she whispered loudly.
    When it was quiet the girls could hear the snorting and bellowing of the buffalo being surrounded by hunters.
    Grass Child spotted a wild strawberry blossom, then a trillium and a springbeauty. She hitched her way down to the springbeauty and her little fingers dug into the soft earth, feeling for the tiny bulb. She wiped it on her tunic and popped it into her mouth while her other hand looked for another delicious bit to eat. She ate another and another and stretched herself out in reach of one more. She heard something and looked up, holding her body tense, her eyes narrowed. Those were not buffalo chased by hunters coming around the crest and up the narrow river valley. Those were horses carrying riders she had never seen before.
    Someone blew a shrill signal on a wing-bone whistle, and the intruders swarmed down into the valley and splashed across the river. Continuously they yelled,
“Ki-
yi!
    The women screamed a warning for everyone to hide themselves. Grass Child looked around frantically, then ran to her sister and Willow Bud.
    The ominous newcomers—black-and-yellow stripes painted down their chest—jumped down and advanced toward the women. Grass Child and Willow Bud ran behind some older children, with Fragrant Herbs and Rain Girl in the lead, heedless of the slippery grass on the ridge. Grass Child fell. A terrible cry burst upon her ears, louder, closer. A shot rang out, then another. This was the first time she had heard a flintlock, but she knew instantly it was the firestick the Agaidüka warriors spoke of. They had wanted to trade for them in the south with the Spanish, but the Spanish wouldnot trade their precious firesticks, not even for a fine Shoshoni horse.
    Grass Child’s breath felt hot in her throat. She rose to her knees and looked toward the river. Willow Bud was on the bank. Grass Child looked up the embankment for her mother, who was dodging a black-and-yellow figure running with a war club raised ready to bring it down on her head.
    “No!” yelled Grass Child as she ran up the hill.
    As long as she lived, Grass Child never forgot the sound of that club. It reminded her of the squashing noise of a buffalo bladder full of water flung against a flat stone.
    Quickly the attacker cut and pulled off the scalp with one powerful sweep. The face of Fragrant Herbs was red with blood; one