doing they were single-handedly winning the game for their team.
James' only regret was that DuPrey was not on the playing field.
As the game wore on, Dancing Cloud observed his sister.
New Moon, unaware of her audience, watched James with rapt attention. She watched the long heavy muscles of his legs as he ran and jumped and her heart beat faster. She watched the rippling play of strength along his back as he swung the ball stick and her stomach tightened. His great strength was obvious to the eye, but she had not expected the stamina or the skill he displayed.
She never expected a white man to last so long.
One of the opponents struck a vicious blow across James' body with the hard wooden ball-stick and she cringed. Why should she care, she reprimanded herself. She couldn't stop the small smile that curled her lips when he delivered his own bone-cracking blow.
Even though blood flowed freely from his nose and facial wounds to drip and smear along his powerful chest, he continued to push, run, throw, and punch his way rapidly about the field. This game would be remembered for a long time to come.
New Moon stole a glance at her brother, Cloud. His face glowed with pride as he watched the blue eyes. She contemplated her brother's recent actions as well as his obvious pride in this white man. There was something here she did not know.
Her mind drifted to a story her brother often told of a white man, one he had come to know while visiting in a land called Eng-land. Her eyes turned back to James.
Dancing Cloud had said the man was tall, and built like a warrior. In fact, Cloud said he was a warrior, one of the Great White Father's best and most beloved warriors.
She watched closely as James ran with the ball stick. Not only did she observe the play of his muscles but the form of his movements as he swung the stick as if it were a kind of weapon unknown to her. Maybe they had a similar game in the land called Eng-land.
Cloud said everyone called him by a woman's name, Robin. Cloud teased him about it until his new friend explained to him that the name was for the color red rather than for the small bird.
Since the color red to The People represented war and fearlessness in battle, Cloud understood the significance of his name. He admitted that, though they chose a feminine representative for the color, it was a good name.
It had been told as a lesson to the children of the village that one must look closely to see the color of a man's heart.
New Moon had never heard of a white man called by an Indian name before. If he were accepted into the village the old magi would give him another Indian name.
New Moon grinned, she was certain he was the warrior from Cloud's stories. Her body tingled. This time she didn't mind so much. She should have recognized sooner that he was a true warrior. Tilting her head to one side, she studied the white man from a new perspective.
When had he actually shown fear or weakness? He'd shown no fear when he rode into the village with Thomas, only wonderment. Without the least show of awe or discomfort he sat down with the chiefs and conducted business.
He teased the children. He even dared to touch her! And she had hurt him. Why had he allowed it? A warrior with only half the skill he demonstrated would have been able to prevent it, but he had not expected her to fight back. Her strength had surprised him.
The only other break in his composure was when she stepped from her hiding place among the cane. She'd thought then that his reaction was one of fear, was sure it was fear, but he did not back down. Every warrior knows fear, she reminded herself. Fear is not a bad thing.
This newcomer to their village was more a warrior than she had first noticed. Memory of her vision drifted before her mind's eye. This time it brought less pain to her as she considered the feats of this white man. For a No Thing he moved well and with courage.
James ducked a swinging stick and swung his own out to
James' only regret was that DuPrey was not on the playing field.
As the game wore on, Dancing Cloud observed his sister.
New Moon, unaware of her audience, watched James with rapt attention. She watched the long heavy muscles of his legs as he ran and jumped and her heart beat faster. She watched the rippling play of strength along his back as he swung the ball stick and her stomach tightened. His great strength was obvious to the eye, but she had not expected the stamina or the skill he displayed.
She never expected a white man to last so long.
One of the opponents struck a vicious blow across James' body with the hard wooden ball-stick and she cringed. Why should she care, she reprimanded herself. She couldn't stop the small smile that curled her lips when he delivered his own bone-cracking blow.
Even though blood flowed freely from his nose and facial wounds to drip and smear along his powerful chest, he continued to push, run, throw, and punch his way rapidly about the field. This game would be remembered for a long time to come.
New Moon stole a glance at her brother, Cloud. His face glowed with pride as he watched the blue eyes. She contemplated her brother's recent actions as well as his obvious pride in this white man. There was something here she did not know.
Her mind drifted to a story her brother often told of a white man, one he had come to know while visiting in a land called Eng-land. Her eyes turned back to James.
Dancing Cloud had said the man was tall, and built like a warrior. In fact, Cloud said he was a warrior, one of the Great White Father's best and most beloved warriors.
She watched closely as James ran with the ball stick. Not only did she observe the play of his muscles but the form of his movements as he swung the stick as if it were a kind of weapon unknown to her. Maybe they had a similar game in the land called Eng-land.
Cloud said everyone called him by a woman's name, Robin. Cloud teased him about it until his new friend explained to him that the name was for the color red rather than for the small bird.
Since the color red to The People represented war and fearlessness in battle, Cloud understood the significance of his name. He admitted that, though they chose a feminine representative for the color, it was a good name.
It had been told as a lesson to the children of the village that one must look closely to see the color of a man's heart.
New Moon had never heard of a white man called by an Indian name before. If he were accepted into the village the old magi would give him another Indian name.
New Moon grinned, she was certain he was the warrior from Cloud's stories. Her body tingled. This time she didn't mind so much. She should have recognized sooner that he was a true warrior. Tilting her head to one side, she studied the white man from a new perspective.
When had he actually shown fear or weakness? He'd shown no fear when he rode into the village with Thomas, only wonderment. Without the least show of awe or discomfort he sat down with the chiefs and conducted business.
He teased the children. He even dared to touch her! And she had hurt him. Why had he allowed it? A warrior with only half the skill he demonstrated would have been able to prevent it, but he had not expected her to fight back. Her strength had surprised him.
The only other break in his composure was when she stepped from her hiding place among the cane. She'd thought then that his reaction was one of fear, was sure it was fear, but he did not back down. Every warrior knows fear, she reminded herself. Fear is not a bad thing.
This newcomer to their village was more a warrior than she had first noticed. Memory of her vision drifted before her mind's eye. This time it brought less pain to her as she considered the feats of this white man. For a No Thing he moved well and with courage.
James ducked a swinging stick and swung his own out to
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