Part 1

Running Buck waited patiently in the dawning light, listening for the sounds which would indicate the others' return. The smell of smoke wafted downwind towards him. His keen ears strained to hear horses' hooves or gunshots while his eyes searched for movement among the trees. It was vital that he hold the horses, keeping them calm yet ready for flight should the need arise. Nevertheless, his mind wandered, the anger rising up inside him as he waited.

He concentrated, forcing the anger and bitterness into the place inside himself where he hid such things, telling himself that the time for revenge would come. But he could not afford the anger now, while the others in the hunting party depended on him. The well-known technique almost worked.

Depended on him? Left him behind was more accurate. While the job of holding the horses during an attack was important, it was expected that the youngest in the party would carry out the task while the stronger and better-trained warriors wreaked their anger on the white man's lodge. But Running Buck was not the youngest in the party. Quiet Elk was a summer younger than Running Buck and almost a grown man's hand shorter. Besides, while Running Buck always came second to Running Horse in the bow-and-arrow contests, Running Buck was better at hand-to-hand fighting than anyone else his age. He'd had to be.

I should be there instead of Quiet Elk!  The thought rose again in his mind. At least Quiet Elk was friendly to him, and would not gloat about the incident later on, although he would not be able to completely hide his pride at being included in the attack. At least Running Horse had gone with the other hunting party. He would have gloated for weeks.

No, the reason Running Buck was left behind was the same reason he was excluded from so much of the tribe's social life - he was white. Well, half-white really, since his mother, Shining Moon, was full-blooded Kiowa. But she had been raped by a white man, and in the eyes of most of the tribe, that meant Running Buck was white. And any white man was the enemy.

When the time came for the attack on the farm, Grey Wolf ensured that Running Buck stayed behind to guard the horses. Grey Wolf's unspoken meaning was clear: if Running Buck had any sympathy for the whites he would get no chance to show it. Not that Running Buck did; in fact, he had even more reason than anyone else in the tribe to hate the white man, with the possible exception of Shining Moon herself.

His thoughts were interrupted as Red Bear, his half-brother, appeared out of the trees and signalled to Running Buck to bring the horses. The warrior's shouts had ceased. There was no need now for the screams used to instill fear into the hearts of the whites who could no longer hear them. Running Buck led the horses to the burning remains of the buildings, taking little notice of the bodies lying in front of the house. The Kiowa were more interested in catching the horses in the log pen. The horses were good, Running Buck saw, while the meat from the cattle Grey Wolf and Sleeping Dog quickly butchered would sustain them for a few days while they continued looking for the buffalo which got scarcer every year.

Quickly the warriors took their share of the meat, mounted their ponies and left. Only Yellow Hawk, Grey Wolf's son, had been injured, his wound a simple flesh wound in his upper arm. The smoke rising from the buildings would attract other white men, perhaps even the Pony Soldiers, and the warriors would have to fight again. Of course, no Kiowa would avoid a fight, but the warriors were still thin after the winter hunger and the village needed the food urgently. Later, when the weather got warmer, the warriors could go raiding, but now food had to be the warriors' highest priority.

Red Bear moved his pony alongside Running Buck's. While he did not speak, Running Buck appreciated his half-brother's tacit support. For a little while, Running Buck could almost forget the humiliation of having to hold the horses and simply enjoy the fast ride through the early morning sunshine.

The Kiowa saw no sign of buffalo that day, or the next, or the one after that. The fruitless searching made the warriors angry, and at night, around the campfire, the same arguments would be brought out.

"Every year since the white men came we have to travel further and further to find buffalo, Yellow Hawk growled. "Soon there will be no buffalo left, and our children will starve. Then we will have to go to a reservation and beg for food."

Grey Wolf agreed.with his son. "We should kill every white that invades our lands; now, before they become too many. As he spoke, his dark eyes looked across the campfire at Running Buck, his meaning all too evident.

Sleeping Dog disagreed. "There will always be buffalo. Once they get used to the presence of the white men all will be as before. We can learn to live in peace with them. Besides, if we kill them all where will we get powder and shot for the rifles, the shiny knives and the beads our women love to sew with?"

"We need to make our choices now. The white men will never leave. Every day there are more and more of them," Red Bear argued. "The Pony Soldiers will force us off our land. We must either drive them out now, or learn to live in peace." Night after night the same arguments were dragged out but nothing was ever resolved. It was always the same.

Running Buck listened in silence. He was all too aware that killing all white men , to many of the Kiowa, would mean his death as well. Grey Wolf's hatred continued to eat at Running Buck. The warrior had been his enemy from the day Running Buck was born. But one day Grey Wolf's skills would decline, or he would push Running Buck too far. He forgot that Running Buck was growing stronger and faster. One day, Running Buck promised himself. One day...

Chapter 2

On the third day after the attack on the white man's farm, Sleeping Dog found buffalo tracks. From the crusting on the buffalo chips, the warriors were not more than two days behind the herd, although the amount of chips lying on the ground made it obvious that the herd was smaller than the Kiowa would have liked. The herd was moving slowly, eating the fresh spring grass. The buffalo, too, were recovering from the winter and would be a little easier to hunt than later in the spring when they reached their full strength. Also, the buffalo were moving towards the tribe's winter campsite, which meant that the warriors could take just a few buffalo, return home and get the tribe moving towards the rest of the herd. The meat would not spoil, and the women would be on hand to start curing the hides.

Running Buck was pleased. He wanted to get back to the tribe's winter campsite as soon as possible, to see Shining Moon's face smile as her sons brought food. Besides, Little Bird's last words haunted him as the warriors travelled further from the campsite.

"Buck, please don't go. I know something terrible will happen. Please don't go." As befitted a woman addressing the man she was promised to, Little Bird kept her eyes downcast and her voice soft and gentle as she spoke. Nonetheless, the urgency was undeniable. She looked straight in Running Buck's eyes andspoke in English to emphasise her plea. "Running Buck, I beg you not to go. I am afraid that you will not return. You know I would never ask you unless I was certain of this."

Running Buck considered her words. He loved his bride-to-be. While a man and a woman may be attracted to each other, in most Kiowa marriages romantic love, as the white man knew it, was not the usual basis for marriage. But because Little Bird was white, rescued during an attack on a wagon train by Blue Fox whose wife had just lost a young girl the same age, a special bond had grown between them. When the anti-white sentiment of the tribe grew too strong, they at least had each other.

The tribe had accepted Little Bird fully. In some ways, she was more Kiowa than Running Buck was, despite her pale skin and eyes. Her hair was truly black, while his was dark brown. Her quiet demeanour endeared her to her adoptive parents and she obly occasionally faced the persecution that Running Buck endured on a daily basis. But Little Bird never forget her real parents, her native tongue and preferred Running Buck to call her 'Camille' while she called him 'Buck.' Apparently it was a name the whites used, too.

But Running Buck had to go. As a member of a successful hunting party he would be able to go raiding later in the season. When he returned from a successful raid with horses and gifts, he would be able to present them to Blue Fox as a bride price for Little Bird. He would have his own tepee, with his own wife to tend it, and neither of them would have to endure the eyes of the other Kiowa on their backs as they lay in their buffalo robes at night. He smiled gently and answered in the same language. "Little Bird, you know the tribe needs food. Besides, the sooner I can go raiding the sooner I can get your bride price. I will be careful."

"Promise me, Buck."

Little Bird's insistence tugged at Running Buck's heart. Pretending an anger he did not feel, he answered her shortly. "A warrior's word is enough. I have said it already." He mounted his horse and rode off, not looking back.

But now, Running Buck was not so sure. What if the spirits had given Little Bird a warning? The spirits rarely talked to one so young, but then the spirits talked to whoever they chose. What if Camille had been right after all.? He kicked his horse into a run, putting aside his worry. The sooner the warriors killed the buffalo, the sooner he would see Little Bird again and put her mind at ease.

The warriors approached the camp cautiously. Sleeping Dog had been sent to scout ahead. When he returned, he used sign language to explain, "There is no smoke rising from the village, and I smell death in the air." The sign language was simply a sensible precaution. If enemies, white or red, remained in the area, they would not hear the warriors speaking and would have less notice of their arrival.

Grey Wolf signed for Running Buck and Quiet Elk to hold the horses. The older warriors silently dropped from their horses and seemed to vanish into the woods. Nerves on edge, the boys followed slowly with the horses, listening intently for the slightest sound that could indicate an enemy attack. The horses were nervous, as if they knew something was wrong. It took all the boys' skill to keep them quiet..

Running Buck cursed silently. His heart had fallen with Sleeping Dog's words. He knew what they'd find. Little Bird had been both right and wrong. Something terrible had happened, but to her, not him. Quiet Elk's face was stoic as he walked beside Running Buck, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

Then the silence was shattered by the cries of Red Bear and Grey Wolf; a mixture of grief and anger. Running Buck and Quiet Elk hurried forward, the need for silence now removed. As they entered the village, Running Buck's heart fell to a new level. It was as if a deep hole had opened up inside him. The village and the women were gone.