Lakota by G. Clifton Wisler

or wrapped in your blanket."
    "She's too skinny," Tacante said, laughing. "And I'm too young,"
    "Ah, I read your thoughts, Heart of the People," He Hopa answered. "Keep your eyes to the warrior path. I'll look after Hehaka."
    "Han, Leksi," Tacante said, knowing the old man knew what was best.
    Still, as the healing days continued, and the ankle grew whole again, Tacante had much time for thought. Hehaka avoided his eyes whenever her grandfather was near, but when with the other maidens, she often flashed a shy smile in Tacante's direction.
    "Take care, my son," Hinhan Hota warned. "Her father is Wanbli Cannunpa."
    "Ah," Tacante said, digesting the news. Eagle Pipe was a feared warrior and a well-known chief among the Oglalas. He would tolerate no foolishness from his daughters, or from others, either. Still, the daughter of the Pipe would bring brave heart sons into the world. Tacante admired Hehaka all the more.
    It was not a time for courting young women or dreaming of the future, though. The wasicuns continued to send wood gatherers out into the distant hills, or parties to shoot fresh meat, and Mahpiya Luta was determined to make them bleed. Once Tacante was able to walk without opening his wound, Hokala urged him to return to the ridge.
    "Han!" Tacante said eagerly. Yes, it was time to be a watcher again. A warrior, after all, had obligations.
    Mostly the woodcutters traveled in large bands now, and their guards kept together. Oh, sometimes a wasicun strayed. Perhaps he went off to relieve himself behind a cottonwood or to fetch water from a spring. Often the wasicuns did so rapidly and returned long before a watcher could sneak among the trees and take his life. If the bluecoats were lazy or wandered a little, they died.
    Still, the best way to win a victory was to decoy a large band of the soldiers into a trap. Sunkawakan Witkotkoke invited Tacante and Hokala to join the decoys again and again. There were many hot bloods among the soldiers, and often their voices called upon the bluecoat chiefs to charge. Among the wasicuns there was a wary-eyed one, though, and even the best traps couldn't tempt him to chase.
    "White cowards!" Tacante sometimes shouted at the reluctant cavalrymen. "We are only three, and you are many. Come and fight us!"
    The soldiers cried in anger, but their chief only laughed. He had the far-seeing medicine, it was said, and he wouldn't follow the decoys.
    As the air grew chill, and the leaves yellowed and began falling from the cotton woods, a great impatience rose among the Lakotas. The Big Horn country was not a favored winter camp. Many of the Sicangus and Minikowojus had left the shadow of the wasicun fort to find better water. Other bands sent their women and little ones to shelter, for the heavy snows would come soon. Warriors young and old stayed, for Mahpiya Luta spoke strong words, and many of the young men had counted coup.
    Sunkawakan Witkotkoke was restless. He spoke little to his companions, but all who saw the strange Oglala knew many thoughts crossed his mind. Finally he gathered a band of the young men and rode north along the white man's road.
    "See," the Horse said, pointing to fresh tracks in the muddy path. "Many wagons and horses come and go here. Our watchers on the road don't have the all-seeing eyes."
    "We will watch for the wasicun wagons," Hokala volunteered.
    "Hau, we'll all watch," Sunkawakan Witkotkoke declared. "And we'll make these wasicuns turn away from our country."
    "Or die," a Sahiyela cried, raising his bow high. The Sahiyelas were still mourning the deaths at Sand Creek, and their young men were eager to charge the bluecoats. They trusted the Horse to make good plans, though, and they agreed to be patient.
    Sunkawakan Witkotkoke spaced his watchers carefully, and it wasn't long before Sunka Sapa spotted wagons. The Horse gathered his warriors and rode out to have a look. The Lakotas and their Sahiyela companions were disappointed to see a band of twenty