soothed him. Other
times, she stroked his forehead with her fingertips, and this, too,
seemed to calm his troubled spirit.
She stayed at his side throughout the day and
night, leaving only long enough to perform her evening chores and
eat a hurried meal with her parents.
Though they had told her to look after him,
now that his wound had festered, it seemed a waste of time and
effort to try and save him when he was fated to die. Elk Hunter
said as much as he lit his pipe and Eagle Woman nodded in
agreement. But neither thought to try and stop Winter Star from
going to the white man.
Winter Star sat with the prisoner all night,
her hand clutched tightly in his as the fever raged through him. It
grieved her to see him in pain.
The wound in his side looked no better in the
morning. Fearing the vehoe might die, Winter Star again
sought her grandfather’s advice.
The old man nodded as Winter Star described
the appearance of the raw, angry wound and the thick, yellow pus
oozing from it.
“ Dissolve a chunk of salt in warm
water,” Yellow Shield instructed. “After you have washed the wound
with the salted water, you must probe inside the wound. Perhaps
there is a bit of cloth or dirt lodged inside preventing the wound
from healing properly.”
“ What if I find nothing
there?”
The old man shrugged fatalistically.
“Sometimes people die in spite of all that we can do. The white
man’s fate rests with Maheo .”
Winter Star nodded, but she looked so
distressed Yellow Shield felt he had to offer her some ray of hope,
however slim. Handing her a bag of herbs, he said, “Try these,
child. Perhaps they will help. At best, they will ease the
pain.”
“ Na-e’ese, Namshim, ” Winter Star
said gratefully. Thank you, Grandfather.
She hurried back to the white man, the bag of
herbs clutched to her breast.
The vehoe began to thrash about as she
washed the area surrounding the wound, swore mightily as she
swabbed the ragged gash with salted water.
“ You must lie still,” Winter Star
pleaded softly. “I cannot help you if you fight against
me.”
Culhane grew quiet at the sound of her voice.
Through a red haze of pain, he saw the Indian girl bending over
him. Reaching out, he tried to push her hand away from his side,
but he was weak, so weak. With ease, she removed his hand from
hers. He cursed softly, angered by the pain she caused him. Why
didn’t she just let him die in peace?
Winter Star chewed on her lower lip as she
gently probed the bloody wound, searching for whatever prevented
the wound from healing properly.
The white man groaned, his whole body
convulsing with pain as her finger inched deeper into his mutilated
flesh.
Winter Star uttered a triumphant cry as her
questing finger brushed against something besides muscle and torn
flesh. Seconds later, she pulled the object from the wound. It was
a piece of wadded up blue cloth, no bigger than the tip of her
thumb.
Tossing the scrap of bloodied cloth aside,
Winter Star rinsed the wound with salted water; then, making a
fresh poultice, she laid it over the wound and bound it with a
strip of clean cloth.
With a heartfelt sigh of gratitude, she
offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving to Maheo.
Chapter 3
Winter Star knelt beside the river, filling a
waterskin, her thoughts, as always, drifting toward the white man.
She wondered who he was, and where he had come from. And if he had
a woman waiting for him somewhere.
She was about to return to her mother’s lodge
when she heard Willow call her name.
“ Winter Star,” Willow called again.
“Wait.”
Winter Star smiled as her friend ran up to
her.
“ I have not seen you for many days,”
Willow said. “Tell me, what is the vehoe like? Does he smell
bad? Is he built like our men? Does his skin feel the
same?”
“ Willow! What are you
saying?”
The girl shrugged. “I have never seen a white
man up close. My mother has forbidden me to go to your lodge while
the vehoe is there. I just wondered
times, she stroked his forehead with her fingertips, and this, too,
seemed to calm his troubled spirit.
She stayed at his side throughout the day and
night, leaving only long enough to perform her evening chores and
eat a hurried meal with her parents.
Though they had told her to look after him,
now that his wound had festered, it seemed a waste of time and
effort to try and save him when he was fated to die. Elk Hunter
said as much as he lit his pipe and Eagle Woman nodded in
agreement. But neither thought to try and stop Winter Star from
going to the white man.
Winter Star sat with the prisoner all night,
her hand clutched tightly in his as the fever raged through him. It
grieved her to see him in pain.
The wound in his side looked no better in the
morning. Fearing the vehoe might die, Winter Star again
sought her grandfather’s advice.
The old man nodded as Winter Star described
the appearance of the raw, angry wound and the thick, yellow pus
oozing from it.
“ Dissolve a chunk of salt in warm
water,” Yellow Shield instructed. “After you have washed the wound
with the salted water, you must probe inside the wound. Perhaps
there is a bit of cloth or dirt lodged inside preventing the wound
from healing properly.”
“ What if I find nothing
there?”
The old man shrugged fatalistically.
“Sometimes people die in spite of all that we can do. The white
man’s fate rests with Maheo .”
Winter Star nodded, but she looked so
distressed Yellow Shield felt he had to offer her some ray of hope,
however slim. Handing her a bag of herbs, he said, “Try these,
child. Perhaps they will help. At best, they will ease the
pain.”
“ Na-e’ese, Namshim, ” Winter Star
said gratefully. Thank you, Grandfather.
She hurried back to the white man, the bag of
herbs clutched to her breast.
The vehoe began to thrash about as she
washed the area surrounding the wound, swore mightily as she
swabbed the ragged gash with salted water.
“ You must lie still,” Winter Star
pleaded softly. “I cannot help you if you fight against
me.”
Culhane grew quiet at the sound of her voice.
Through a red haze of pain, he saw the Indian girl bending over
him. Reaching out, he tried to push her hand away from his side,
but he was weak, so weak. With ease, she removed his hand from
hers. He cursed softly, angered by the pain she caused him. Why
didn’t she just let him die in peace?
Winter Star chewed on her lower lip as she
gently probed the bloody wound, searching for whatever prevented
the wound from healing properly.
The white man groaned, his whole body
convulsing with pain as her finger inched deeper into his mutilated
flesh.
Winter Star uttered a triumphant cry as her
questing finger brushed against something besides muscle and torn
flesh. Seconds later, she pulled the object from the wound. It was
a piece of wadded up blue cloth, no bigger than the tip of her
thumb.
Tossing the scrap of bloodied cloth aside,
Winter Star rinsed the wound with salted water; then, making a
fresh poultice, she laid it over the wound and bound it with a
strip of clean cloth.
With a heartfelt sigh of gratitude, she
offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving to Maheo.
Chapter 3
Winter Star knelt beside the river, filling a
waterskin, her thoughts, as always, drifting toward the white man.
She wondered who he was, and where he had come from. And if he had
a woman waiting for him somewhere.
She was about to return to her mother’s lodge
when she heard Willow call her name.
“ Winter Star,” Willow called again.
“Wait.”
Winter Star smiled as her friend ran up to
her.
“ I have not seen you for many days,”
Willow said. “Tell me, what is the vehoe like? Does he smell
bad? Is he built like our men? Does his skin feel the
same?”
“ Willow! What are you
saying?”
The girl shrugged. “I have never seen a white
man up close. My mother has forbidden me to go to your lodge while
the vehoe is there. I just wondered
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