Spirit Horses by Alan Evans Page B

grandfather’s responsibilities to ensure
that our herd be properly managed as well as to keep them wild and free, as
they have been for hundreds of years.”
    Shane got a feeling, just from looking at him, that
this was a man of status. He looked to be in his late seventies or early
eighties, and was in good physical condition for his age. Even though he was
dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, there was an air of nobility about him. Wearing
the fancy headdress in the other room, this old guy would fit right in with his
warrior ancestors who once ruled this country on horseback.
    The elderly man pointed his finger at Shane and said
only one word, Tahotay . Shane
smiled and glanced at Tara for a translation. She looked at her grandfather and
shook her head, and then turning to Shane said, “It’s nothing important.”
    Shane asked him, “How is this herd so connected to
your tribe’s past?”
    The shaman spoke in his native language for quite a
while. When he finally stopped, he indicated to Tara with a wave of his hand,
to translate. She appeared reluctant but did as her grandfather asked.
    “He wants you to know that these horses are direct
descendants of the hunting and war horses that the Shoshone depended on for
centuries. Many generations of warriors and chiefs have ridden these particular
bloodlines during famous battles, battles that were important in both the white
man and Shoshone’s history.”
    Shane sat attentively. Her voice had taken on a
storyteller’s quality as she translated the exotic sounds of the Shoshone
language into English for him.
    “According to our ancient tribal beliefs, these
horses are spiritual in nature, and some still believe that when a Shoshone
dies these horses will carry their soul to the threshold where those who have
passed before will be waiting to greet them. My grandfather and others of his
generation believe our ancestors still run with the herd when the “great
spirit” allows them.” Tara stopped, then smiled at Shane and said, “I know this
sounds farfetched to you, but my grandfather wants you to understand why these
horses mean so much to us.”
    Shane shook his head from side to side, “No ma’am,
I’m not here to make any judgments about your tribes’ beliefs or traditions. I
just appreciate his time. Please let him know that I’m respectful of what he’s
telling me, and that I consider this very interesting.”
    “My grandfather’s name is Tigee, and you may speak
to him as you wish. I have told him about your mare and how you have taken good
care of her, but that is all I’ve told him.”
    The shaman then looked at Shane and repeated, Tahotay . Tara
looked embarrassed and shook her head, “No,” at her grandfather again.
    Tigee asked Shane in his broken English, “What do
you want from me?”
      Shane
breathed deeply and said, “I want to set the mare free with her herd. I drove a
long way from home to do this and hope that you will help me.”
    Tigee spoke again in Shoshone. When he finished,
Tara translated. “He thinks the mare has been away too long and wonders if the
herd will accept her.”
    Shane said, “I plan to stay out there to make sure
they don’t
reject her. If they do, I’ll take her back to Tennessee.”
    The old Indian said, “No,” and began talking again
in his own language to Tara. When he finished, she looked at Shane. “My
grandfather does not think this is a good idea.”
    Disappointed, Shane became quiet in thought for a
moment, “Could I please speak with your grandfather alone?”
    Tara looked questionably at Tigee, he nodded his
head, yes, and indicated for her to wait outside.
    He hoped if Tigee knew the real reason this was so
important to him, perhaps he would reconsider. Strong emotions became evident
on Shane’s face as he told the old Indian about his family.
    “We acquired the mare from a nice lady who saved her
from the slaughterhouse. I had no idea how much a part of our family she would
become. Once she