now,” she said. “Sleep.”
The tepees were arranged in a circle around the fire. Yellow Feather led them to one, lifting the flap for them to enter. It took a few minutes for Maisie’s eyes to get used to the dark, but then she saw that the tepee floor was lined with buffalo hides.
Like wall-to-wall carpeting,
she thought. Already YellowFeather’s parents lay under buffalo-skin blankets on the left side of the tepee. Maisie could make out other vague shapes beneath blankets, too.
“Sisters,” Yellow Feather said.
She indicated two other blankets on the empty right side of the tepee.
“Sleep,” she said through a yawn.
“Thank you,” Felix told Yellow Feather.
But she had already slipped away.
He and Maisie burrowed under the blankets. Felix tried to sleep, but he couldn’t get the images of all that he’d seen that day out of his head. The buffalo hunt. Yellow Feather showing them how all the parts of the buffalo were used. The meat roasting on the open fire. The men thanking Wakan Tanka, their chanting and dancing. The silence. The smells of smoke and meat and sweat. He opened his eyes, and through the triangle opening at the top of the tepee he saw the Big Dipper, right overhead. In his mind, Felix imagined the other constellations and where they were in the night sky, until finally, with Maisie breathing deeply beside him, he, too, fell asleep.
“Much work,” Yellow Feather said.
Maisie and Felix struggled awake to find Yellow Feather looming over them, slapping her palms together.
“Buffalo,” she said.
“Now what?” Maisie grumbled as she stepped out into the early morning sun.
Yellow Feather handed them each a long, dry strip of buffalo jerky, then told them to follow her.
“Tastes like Slim Jims,” Maisie told Felix, who was sniffing at it.
“I never liked Slim Jims,” he reminded her. The thought of those slimy, cellophane-wrapped sticks made his stomach lurch.
“But better,” Maisie added.
Felix smiled at his sister gratefully. No one in the world knew him better than she did, and thinking that made his heart tumble. He had been such a jerk to her, he thought, vowing to make it up to her somehow when they got back to Newport.
He stuck the jerky into his yellow tuxedo jacket pocket and was glad he hadn’t tasted it when he saw what lay ahead.
The women of the tribe were all cutting apart the buffalo from yesterday’s hunt. The smell of rawmeat was sickening. Felix tried not to notice the flies buzzing around them, or the way the women sliced the red meat into long strips, or the row of buffalo tongues on the ground in front of him.
“Buffalo,” Yellow Feather said with a smile, and she picked up a knife and set to work separating meat from skin.
“I guess we should help?” Maisie said.
“Gee,” Felix said hopefully, “there aren’t any boys here. Maybe this is women’s work.”
“No way are you leaving me here to skin a buffalo,” Maisie told him.
Felix sighed. If he was going to make it up to her, he had to stay.
Reluctantly, he watched as Yellow Feather worked, trying to learn how she was able to cut the meat like that.
By the time mid-morning arrived, both Maisie and Felix were able to cut the buffalo meat into the long strips that would be dried in the sun for jerky. The work had a rhythm to it that made time pass pleasantly. After a while, Maisie and Felix almost forgot the nature of what they were doing and instead lost themselves in the lilting sound of the women’svoices and the way in which everyone worked equally. They felt proud of the meat they cut and happy to be able to contribute to the tribe.
Perhaps that was why they didn’t hear the sounds of horses approaching.
When the soldiers came thundering into the village, everyone was caught by surprise. Six hundred soldiers dressed in blue uniforms attacked the village on horseback.
One minute, Felix was sitting under the warm sun, surrounded by women and buffalo meat. The next, bullets
The tepees were arranged in a circle around the fire. Yellow Feather led them to one, lifting the flap for them to enter. It took a few minutes for Maisie’s eyes to get used to the dark, but then she saw that the tepee floor was lined with buffalo hides.
Like wall-to-wall carpeting,
she thought. Already YellowFeather’s parents lay under buffalo-skin blankets on the left side of the tepee. Maisie could make out other vague shapes beneath blankets, too.
“Sisters,” Yellow Feather said.
She indicated two other blankets on the empty right side of the tepee.
“Sleep,” she said through a yawn.
“Thank you,” Felix told Yellow Feather.
But she had already slipped away.
He and Maisie burrowed under the blankets. Felix tried to sleep, but he couldn’t get the images of all that he’d seen that day out of his head. The buffalo hunt. Yellow Feather showing them how all the parts of the buffalo were used. The meat roasting on the open fire. The men thanking Wakan Tanka, their chanting and dancing. The silence. The smells of smoke and meat and sweat. He opened his eyes, and through the triangle opening at the top of the tepee he saw the Big Dipper, right overhead. In his mind, Felix imagined the other constellations and where they were in the night sky, until finally, with Maisie breathing deeply beside him, he, too, fell asleep.
“Much work,” Yellow Feather said.
Maisie and Felix struggled awake to find Yellow Feather looming over them, slapping her palms together.
“Buffalo,” she said.
“Now what?” Maisie grumbled as she stepped out into the early morning sun.
Yellow Feather handed them each a long, dry strip of buffalo jerky, then told them to follow her.
“Tastes like Slim Jims,” Maisie told Felix, who was sniffing at it.
“I never liked Slim Jims,” he reminded her. The thought of those slimy, cellophane-wrapped sticks made his stomach lurch.
“But better,” Maisie added.
Felix smiled at his sister gratefully. No one in the world knew him better than she did, and thinking that made his heart tumble. He had been such a jerk to her, he thought, vowing to make it up to her somehow when they got back to Newport.
He stuck the jerky into his yellow tuxedo jacket pocket and was glad he hadn’t tasted it when he saw what lay ahead.
The women of the tribe were all cutting apart the buffalo from yesterday’s hunt. The smell of rawmeat was sickening. Felix tried not to notice the flies buzzing around them, or the way the women sliced the red meat into long strips, or the row of buffalo tongues on the ground in front of him.
“Buffalo,” Yellow Feather said with a smile, and she picked up a knife and set to work separating meat from skin.
“I guess we should help?” Maisie said.
“Gee,” Felix said hopefully, “there aren’t any boys here. Maybe this is women’s work.”
“No way are you leaving me here to skin a buffalo,” Maisie told him.
Felix sighed. If he was going to make it up to her, he had to stay.
Reluctantly, he watched as Yellow Feather worked, trying to learn how she was able to cut the meat like that.
By the time mid-morning arrived, both Maisie and Felix were able to cut the buffalo meat into the long strips that would be dried in the sun for jerky. The work had a rhythm to it that made time pass pleasantly. After a while, Maisie and Felix almost forgot the nature of what they were doing and instead lost themselves in the lilting sound of the women’svoices and the way in which everyone worked equally. They felt proud of the meat they cut and happy to be able to contribute to the tribe.
Perhaps that was why they didn’t hear the sounds of horses approaching.
When the soldiers came thundering into the village, everyone was caught by surprise. Six hundred soldiers dressed in blue uniforms attacked the village on horseback.
One minute, Felix was sitting under the warm sun, surrounded by women and buffalo meat. The next, bullets
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