Destiny Mine by Janelle Taylor Page B

thin braids. Whether one agreed or not with that harsh custom, it proved he possessed enormous stamina and courage.
    All males over fifteen winters were members of their warrior rank, but each had to seek a vision to receive his name and signs, and must prove himself in battle and be chosen to join a society. When the Cheyenne rode into a great battle, their chief always led them, and no man dared to place his horse beyond Big Hump’s unless given permission for an important reason. As chief, Big Hump was the one to perform the Great Medicine Ceremonyand was Keeper-of-the-Sacred Arrows, which made his life and those objects the targets of enemies. But few bands were rash enough to attack a large and strong Cheyenne camp, even to recover captives.
    Kionee believed it was wrong to steal people—especially women and children—from their families and way of life. The Hanueva did not need slaves to do their work for them, and did not cause the sufferings of others.
    Yet, there were many similarities between the two peoples. Both worshipped the Creator of all things, even if they used different names for Him. Both tribes were hunters, their main prey the buffalo which provided meat, hides, and various other needs. They respected Mother Earth, their families, their tribe, and their laws; and defended those things to the death if necessary.
    The way they governed themselves was also similar. All warriors had a vote in the tribe’s affairs. Both councils made suggestions, but the members decided which path to ride. With the Cheyenne, the chiefs of the societies spoke with its members to gather their feelings and thoughts on a matter, then those chiefs told the council their desires, which were always accepted. Even so, most honored the head chief’s, shaman’s, and council’s wisdom and words.
    Careful to conceal her interest Kionee continued to appraise Stalking Wolf. His eyes were a mixture of brown and yellow, not as dark as most Indians’. His skin was also different. Even his features were not as sharp and large as those of other Cheyenne she had observed. It was as if he were not all Indian, as if one parent were not Indian; yet how could that be true of the son or daughter of a chief? Perhaps she would learn the truth later. It did not matter to her, for she admired this unusual male.
    Kionee was forced to halt her perusal when she was asked about the name she had heard during the fight with the eight Crow. “The enemy who buried his knife in my friend’s heart spoke of a warrior called One-Eye,” she revealed. “He said they will prove to others ‘it is not bad medicine to slay those with painted faces.’ They have feared our masks and magic in past suns; that time lives no longer. I took revenge for Sumba, as you did for your friends.”
    “What of their horses and possessions, Kionee?”
    “We left the warriors where they fell. We gathered our arrows, removed our tracks, and left no clues to their slayers.”
    “What of the one who escaped and will reveal your deed?”
    “Will a warrior tell others of the weakness of himself and seven friends at the hands of only five hunters? To do so would evoke great shame. They say we are weak, unworthy, but we defeated them with fewer fighters.”
    “To save his face, Kionee, he will say there were many.”
    “I say he will blame Cheyenne or Oglalas, fierce enemies and skilled warriors. He will not tell it was peaceful Hanueva. But if he does so, they will fear the magic, medicine, and power of our protectors and guardians.”
    “Fear them, yes, but a craving to steal those powers will make them bold, even reckless, in their quests,” Stalking Wolf refuted in a gentle tone. “Tell me; how did a small party of Hanueva defeat a larger one of Crow?”
    Red Bull answered for her when she waited too long to respond. “Kionee does not boast of his great deeds. I will speak them for my brother and friend, for he saved my family from the claws and teeth of the