Read Online A Whisper In The Wind by Madeline Baker - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeline Baker
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hair as black as ebony, eyes as dark as onyx, and a smile to warm a man’s soul. Winter Song.
Yes, he thought with a wide grin, living in the past held many interesting possibilities.
Chapter Ten
The days that followed were filled with discovery and excitement.
He had prayed for a vision, hoping for some blinding burst of knowledge that would better help him understand his heritage, some miracle that would enable him to fulfill his great-grandfather’s dying wish. And instead of a vision, he had been plunged into the past. Rather like asking for a glass of milk and being given the whole cow instead.
Be careful what you ask for, lest you get it.
But for now, he would change nothing. He embraced the Cheyenne lifestyle, eager to learn. And he gained a new appreciation for the Indian people. But best of all were the hours he spent with his great-grandfather.
Each day Michael vowed to tell Yellow Spotted Wolf who he was, but somehow he could never find the words. It was hard to listen to his great-grandfather talk about the future, about how good life would be when the whites were defeated and the land belonged to the People again.
“What if you could see into the future?” Michael asked Yellow Spotted Wolf one night.
Yellow Spotted Wolf shook his head. “I do not want to know what turns my path in life will take. I want to discover what lies ahead one step at a time, as Maheo intended. If there is happiness waiting, I will be glad, and if sorrow comes, I will mourn.”
“But what if you could know for certain what life held in store for you?” Michael argued. “What if you could know how long you would live, the girl you would marry?”
Yellow Spotted Wolf grunted softly. “I know what lies before me,” he said confidently. “I have received a vision from the Great Spirit and He has told me the path to follow. Life is not life without change, but I have been told that long life awaits me if I hold tight to the ways of the people.”
“But…”
Yellow Spotted Wolf silenced him with a gesture. “To know the future is to rob it of life. There would be no honor in battle, no risk, if I knew I could not be killed. There would be no excitement in courtship, no anticipation of acceptance or fear of rejection, if I knew who my mate would be. It is enough to know that the Great Spirit has promised me long life. I do not want to know how long.”
Michael nodded. Yellow Spotted Wolf was right, he mused, and wished that the knowledge of what the future held for his people did not weigh so heavily on his mind.
He had been in the Cheyenne camp a little over a week when some of the warriors began preparing to go in search of the buffalo. Mo’ohta-vo’nehe was in charge, so naturally Michael went along.
They left early in the morning, the medicine man’s blessing on the hunt, the warriors, and their horses still ringing in their ears. Michael carried a bow made of mulberry wood. A quiver containing a half-dozen arrows was slung over his left shoulder. The quiver was made of panther skin, the tail still attached. It was, he thought, a thing of beauty. No one had asked him if he knew how to use a bow; he was a Cheyenne, after all. It was assumed that he was a warrior, that he was familiar with weapons.
Mounted on the big bay he had stolen from Deadwood Gulch, he rode alongside Yellow Spotted Wolf, wondering what he’d do if he actually had to use the bow. Yellow Spotted Wolf had taught him to string a bow, how to hold an arrow, how to sight down the shaft. But Michael had been a boy then, and his bow had been more of a toy than a real weapon.
They rode all that morning, and as the hours passed, Michael felt himself growing more at ease on horseback. The bay had a smooth walk and a soft, responsive mouth. But then Mo’ohta-vo’nehe urged his horse into a trot, and Michael knew his horsemanship needed a lot of improvement before he could ride as well as his companions.
It was nearing noon when they
Yes, he thought with a wide grin, living in the past held many interesting possibilities.
Chapter Ten
The days that followed were filled with discovery and excitement.
He had prayed for a vision, hoping for some blinding burst of knowledge that would better help him understand his heritage, some miracle that would enable him to fulfill his great-grandfather’s dying wish. And instead of a vision, he had been plunged into the past. Rather like asking for a glass of milk and being given the whole cow instead.
Be careful what you ask for, lest you get it.
But for now, he would change nothing. He embraced the Cheyenne lifestyle, eager to learn. And he gained a new appreciation for the Indian people. But best of all were the hours he spent with his great-grandfather.
Each day Michael vowed to tell Yellow Spotted Wolf who he was, but somehow he could never find the words. It was hard to listen to his great-grandfather talk about the future, about how good life would be when the whites were defeated and the land belonged to the People again.
“What if you could see into the future?” Michael asked Yellow Spotted Wolf one night.
Yellow Spotted Wolf shook his head. “I do not want to know what turns my path in life will take. I want to discover what lies ahead one step at a time, as Maheo intended. If there is happiness waiting, I will be glad, and if sorrow comes, I will mourn.”
“But what if you could know for certain what life held in store for you?” Michael argued. “What if you could know how long you would live, the girl you would marry?”
Yellow Spotted Wolf grunted softly. “I know what lies before me,” he said confidently. “I have received a vision from the Great Spirit and He has told me the path to follow. Life is not life without change, but I have been told that long life awaits me if I hold tight to the ways of the people.”
“But…”
Yellow Spotted Wolf silenced him with a gesture. “To know the future is to rob it of life. There would be no honor in battle, no risk, if I knew I could not be killed. There would be no excitement in courtship, no anticipation of acceptance or fear of rejection, if I knew who my mate would be. It is enough to know that the Great Spirit has promised me long life. I do not want to know how long.”
Michael nodded. Yellow Spotted Wolf was right, he mused, and wished that the knowledge of what the future held for his people did not weigh so heavily on his mind.
He had been in the Cheyenne camp a little over a week when some of the warriors began preparing to go in search of the buffalo. Mo’ohta-vo’nehe was in charge, so naturally Michael went along.
They left early in the morning, the medicine man’s blessing on the hunt, the warriors, and their horses still ringing in their ears. Michael carried a bow made of mulberry wood. A quiver containing a half-dozen arrows was slung over his left shoulder. The quiver was made of panther skin, the tail still attached. It was, he thought, a thing of beauty. No one had asked him if he knew how to use a bow; he was a Cheyenne, after all. It was assumed that he was a warrior, that he was familiar with weapons.
Mounted on the big bay he had stolen from Deadwood Gulch, he rode alongside Yellow Spotted Wolf, wondering what he’d do if he actually had to use the bow. Yellow Spotted Wolf had taught him to string a bow, how to hold an arrow, how to sight down the shaft. But Michael had been a boy then, and his bow had been more of a toy than a real weapon.
They rode all that morning, and as the hours passed, Michael felt himself growing more at ease on horseback. The bay had a smooth walk and a soft, responsive mouth. But then Mo’ohta-vo’nehe urged his horse into a trot, and Michael knew his horsemanship needed a lot of improvement before he could ride as well as his companions.
It was nearing noon when they
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