I was sure Running Horse and me were OK. What happened between us drew us back to the place where we stood before I upset things. We both was Pawnee, living in a village of Pawnee people. I wanted to be there. As Pawnee boys go, Running Horse was as close to running things as anyone. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Important men often disappoint the people who made them important. Running Horse will never lay claim to power until Lone Wolf passes it to him. Even knowing he'll be picked to lead us, Running Horse remains one of the boys. He didn't play all the games we played. He stayed close and was there if needed.

Running Horse remained silent most of the time. We settled things amongst ourselves. I never got in the middle of arguments. I was not entitled. If asked, I said my piece without emotion. The fist fights the older boys got into at school wasn't how things was done in the village.

These were friends and family. They didn't fight each other, because they knew the fights to come would require them to fight together. In school it was dozens of students, each got there on different paths.

Some boys moved in a way to give them an advantage over the other boys. They positioned themselves to call the shots. Not all boys bought what was being sold. The fighting came when boys were told to pick a side. Each side was willing to fight for what they believed to be the right side.

In the village, there was one side. We stood together in good times and bad. When we agreed and when we didn't. Running Horse didn't insist on having his way. He described the situation and how it could be peacefully resolved. Because we didn't fight, we didn't see fighting as necessary.

I didn't spend a lot of time comparing apples and oranges. The one thing I did notice, was how different boys faced disagreements. People didn't need to fight if they talked through their differences. Fighting wasn't their first or last stance.

No boy tried to replace Running Horse as leader. He became leader because he was oldest, smartest, strongest boy. Running Horse fired his arrow further than any other boy could. His arrows ran true to the heart of the target.

Because I was different, Running Horse favored me. Being different worked in my favor. At school, you didn't dare appear to be out of step with other boys. That took you down a road to trouble. Any one different was singled out and forced to conform or flee.

I was different than the other boys, but unable to see the difference, I passed muster. I was acceptable. I didn't argue. I didn't claim to be Pawnee. Men with far more white blood than me, did a lot worse. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes unopened to treatment I deserved but didn't receive.

Looking like them was an advantage at school. Appearance was everything. I could pass as white, and so I did. If I was born with Paw's color skin instead of Maw's, I often lay awake wondering how my life would have changed. I wouldn't have been allowed in school.

Colored people weren't allowed to go to school with white people. I wouldn't have been allowed near the school. Because Grandpa Kelly insisted on me having his last name, and because Maw was white, no one questioned my parentage.

"He's the prophet's grandchild. Of course he's white."

Why did I get to pass, when others didn't?

The older men in the village, had no need of warriors. They would need them, but while there was peace and life was good, they could wait to make decisions about when they'd fight and when they'd walk away. Once you took warriors to war, they were never boys again. Once a warrior fights, he is always ready for the fight, a battle, the war.

There was no doubt that Lone Wolf, Dark Horse, and the elders in the village would pick up their bows and go into battle with us, but we'd follow Running Horse, and they'd do the best they could. A warrior never forgets how to fight. A warrior is always prepared to die.

There is honor that goes with a warrior's death.

The elders ran the village in peaceful times. Boys were left to play and hunt. They'd be allowed to grow into men, and once they were grown, the elders would step aside to allow the new generation to run the village while old men died. The torch would be passed without so much as a ripple involving Mother Earth.

My manhood was further from me than it had been. I took time out to finish being a boy. I grew like a weed for a while. It was always Running Horse and Li'l Fox beside me. I learned my lessons from them. I played games a lot.

I knew where Running Horse fit into the village's future. It was my future. I'd do what needed doing when the time came. I'd do it with my friends. I'd do it with Running Horse. While I saw the final battle in my my dreams, I wasn't part of it. I see Running Horse and Li'l Fox. I see the boys I play with, but I do not see myself. This troubles me.

Running Horse says, "Dreams mean many things."

I will grow and become as strong as Running Horse. I won't worry so much about things in my dreams.

I have thoughts in Pawnee. I'm trying to keep my English good. As I grow further away from my roots, I see English different. The awkward rules I couldn't reason out, dance in my head at night. I have come to see logic in rules that made no sense to me before.

Speaking English is a skill that could come in handy one day. I know this, but I don't know why. Life is often mysterious. No way to explain it.

My past life is starting to fade. It takes some work being Pawnee. I'm willing do the work. I listen and I learn mostly from Running Horse and Li'l Fox. I need to remind myself to listen not speak. That has to be from my English half, where boys talk too much. I do not learn while I talk.

When I let loose with what Li'l Fox sees as, 'Too many words.' He gives me his version.

We went to the pasture where Shiftless stays most of the time. As we got close, I saw Shiftless chasing after another horse.

I said, "Look at that horse run. He likes it here."

Li'l Fox said, "Say, Horse."

When you're right, you're right. I saw it in one glance. Li'l Fox did too.

Pawnee shorthand lets you get your own view of the horse.

As I've grown closer to Running Horse, Li'l Fox seems closer to me too. One of them is always nearby, when I'm up. Li'l Fox sleeps where I sleep. Medicine Woman is always busy when I fall asleep. She's the first one I see when I wake. When does she sleep?

The same is true of Dark Horse. I never see him lie down. He sits silent. He is here. He's not here. Dark Horse looks older than when I came. I'm older. My thoughts are more clear. The meaning behind my thinking ain't always clear.

I'm half way between two worlds. There is no way to explain how it feels. Different doesn't describe it. One world developed natural like. The people are simple in their thoughts and ideas.

The other world tips on the verge of being out of control. Men force their will on everyone near and far. One world uses bows and arrows to hunt and for defense. The other world comes with cannons and weapons meant to kill things far away from where one is fired. The two worlds can't exist side by side.

Coming here, Europeans found endless land free for the taking. They are taking it inch by inch, foot by foot, mile by mile. They keep coming. A simple people who live off the land, know war. They know the limits of war. They know there is a time to make the peace. This requires compromise.

Europeans keep on coming. There will be no peace until they achieve what they set out to do. They will not stop for the Pawnee, Lakota, or any other tribe that has been on that land for a 100, maybe a 1000 generations.

Europeans don't want some of the land. They don't want most of the land. Europeans plan to take it all.

In school I learned of the plan. One president wrote to a future president, "The policy concerning the Indians is, and always has been, removal." T Jefferson to William Henry Harrison.

Removal to where? What happens once the whites take all the land?

Where do they remove the Indians to?

I heard one of my classmates say, "We'll remove them all to hell."

A dozen classmates cheered the idea as revolutionary. Who goes to someone else's house and takes it from the rightful owners?

Anyone who has the power to do it.

They're talking about people that have lived here forever.

Who thinks like that about other people? It's not simply meanness. It's ruthless greed that has Europeans taking everything and anything they can.

If the Indians had cannons and rifles, the Europeans might not have been as anxious to fight them, but Indians didn't have weapons of war created to smash an adversary to pieces.

Will I be part of the death and dying, when they come for the land our village sits upon? We will fight for our home. We will die.

They wouldn't have it no other way.

*****

I feel no pressure here. The pressure on me to conform, be productive, keeping busy doing what I was told to do was a constant at the cabin. I get approval from Paw when we hunt together. I always felt he was the most Pawnee when he hunted, and I always kilt something that made him smile, but his approval got gone by the time we returned from the hunt.

I fish. I hunt for small critters in and around the village. It's easy to understand why they come within reach of my arrows. My village needs to eat. I hunt alone seldom. Running Horse is always waiting when I appear in the entrance of our wigwam. It does me good to see him. He makes me smile.

"We hunt," I said on days I carried my bow and quiver of arrows.

We set out in the direction where game is plentiful. If Li'l Fox is up early, and he sometimes is, he needs no invitation to go with us. There are days when Li'l Fox lets us go together and he stays at the wigwam.

He is surprisingly good about giving us time to be alone. I never wanted to be alone at the cabin. I was alone. Having someone to be alone with was nice.

In my second year in the village, I'm sure I am sixteen now. I can't say what month it is, or how many months I've been gone from the valley where the river runs.

My legs are both strong. My eyes are good, and I do the things other Indian boys do, and it's time to go hunting on the mountain again.

We do this twice a season. First, when the ice forms on the pond where the steam and creek come together. That's when plans will be made for the coming hunt. We'll bring back meat enough to last most of the winter. We'll go to the mountain before the ice begins to melt. We'll bring back enough meat to keep the pots over the fire pits in the wigwams full.

We're always practicing with our bows. Once or twice a week, we fire at the targets with chicken feathers in them to make them look more real. Some days, target practice will be a hunt for rabbit, raccoon, or beaver for the soup pot. We ain't got to go far to get rabbit. There seem to be plenty of those critters about. In a couple of hours, we can fill most of the pots with meat. After a hot summer, this tells us to keep our eyes open for ice on the pond.

I've been in the village for a second year and I've seen Lone Wolf twice. His wigwam is separated from the rest. He is the warrior who has seen the worst of it. He's the warrior who has seen the most battles. Lone Wolf is revered.

The first time I saw him was at a meeting of the elders. I was asked to attend. Medicine Woman, Li'l Fox, and Dark Horse walked with me to the lodge where Lone Wolf was the only speaker.

He spoke no English. I understood most of what he said, and in case I didn't catch every word, I'd hear the words again from both Running Horse and Li'l Fox. They remembered his words, while I fought to understand their meaning.

Mostly Lone Wolf told the story of the village. He told of the battles he didn't fight but knew were fought before his time. He knew every battle he fought and why he fought. He knew where every warrior fell in every battle he was in.

I wondered why I never saw this proud Indian. When I listened to him speak, it was obvious to me, he was a great man. After hearing him, I wanted to speak to him, but I wasn't ready yet. My Pawnee was not good enough. When I spoke to a man like Lone Wolf, I wanted to be understood.

I would speak to him and to Dark Horse in Pawnee one day. I didn't realize how soon that would be concerning Dark Horse. We did not speak to each other. Medicine Woman was always between us. This is how it was in the wigwam.

The battles Lone Wolf fought, always included Dark Horse's name. I heard no one say Dark Horse was a warrior, but he grew old in the village, along with Lone Wolf. He fought beside the warriors. He fought beside Paw. I was sure of it, even when Lone Wolf didn't say his name beside the names of fallen warriors.

I began hearing names I recognized from somewhere inside the wigwam. It was sketchy and one sentence here or there, and for the first time, the looks between Medicine Woman and Dark Horse told a story, after such a name was said. A slip of the lip was silenced immediately.

At first, while in my stupor. I heard the name Proud Eagle spoken. I couldn't make sense of it. I couldn't make sense of much while I healed, and then I heard no more that told me anything. I'd heard these names before I came to the village. I did my best to recall what Maw told me about what Paw told her.

My mind lost so much detail by that time I was well on my way to healing, I only remember one name she mentioned that I would float in front of Medicine Woman soon. When I saw their reaction, I'd know if I was on to something.

It was while we set up the target and Running Horse and I waited our turn, which came after all the other boys took their turn. No one could shoot as far as Running Horse and me. We all knew how things were by then.

When the other boys stepped aside, Running Horse went to the line he drew with his foot. The line we shot from. Using the toe of his moccasin, He walked back ten steps, and he drew a new line.

What was he doing? I could barely reach the target from the old line. I was fairly certain my arrow would not go that far. There really was no competition. Running Horse hit the target every time. I could hit it from time to time. Some of my arrows still went astray. Why make it harder than it was?

Running Horse could and probably would hit the target from the new line. It wasn't like him to purposely show me up in front of the other boys. His mind did not work that way.

I was sure I wouldn't hit the target from there. Then it came to me. Running Horse gave me a bow he made for me. I hadn't had a chance to use it, but I could feel it had a stronger bowstring than the one Li'l Fox made for me. He made a bow that could shoot that distance. That made more sense.

I was anxious. I didn't get no time to practice with the new bow. It bothered me I might not get my arrow near the target, and that was before I saw Lone Wolf standing next to a tree four feet from the target. He wasn't there before. You couldn't miss him when he stood so close to the target.

He came to see Running Horse and me shoot our arrows at the target.

Why did Lone Wolf pick today to come see us practice with the bow?

He stood four feet from the target. Did he have a death wish. Was he crazy. Was I crazy enough to shoot an arrow toward the warrior chief of the village?

I missed the target by that much more than once. How could I live with myself if I put an arrow into Lone Wolf? What was he doing?

I didn't have much time to think about whether I'd shoot toward Lone Wolf or not. As I followed Running Horse to the new line, he spoke, while all I could do was see my arrow sticking out of Lone Wolf.

"Bow plenty strong. You see."

Easy for him to say, as he took an arrow from the quiver. I took an arrow from mine. Two could play this game. I'd let him go first. He always hit the target. I'd shoot as quick as he did, and that way Lone Wolf would only notice the arrow that hit the target, and where ever my arrow went, as long as it didn't hit him, wouldn't be considered, because Running Horse was a great archer.

Running Horse stood focused on the target that was at least twenty feet further than we'd ever practiced before. He took his stance, pulled back his bow string. I took my stance beside him. He could see me standing two feet away. My back was turned to him.

The twang that came from his bow string told me when to fire. I released my arrow the instant I heard it. His arrow arced and hit the target dead center. My arrow hit the target right beside his. That was a relief.

"Told you," he said, knowing we'd both hit the mark.

I did not have his confidence, and where the hell was Lone Wolf.

I didn't hit him. Where did he go?

I checked the ground for a body just to make sure.

How disappointing. I'd earned a job well done.

I'd never done anything anyone thought was worth mentioning. Why did I expect a warrior chief to notice I was alive? It was my foolishness.

"That's why you made the new bow. My old one wouldn't reach?"

"Bow Old. Need string. I make new bow."

I think I just said that.

Running Horse wasn't as disappointed as I was. He knew Lone Wolf wasn't going to come to congratulate us.

"He disappointed, say so. We do good, say nothing."

Did Running Horse invite Lone Wolf to come see us shoot our arrows?

Running Horse knew I needed Lone Wolf's approval. At least i was told how it worked. It don't mean nothing anyway.

It sounds simple. A great man comes to watch us. He stands alone. He leaves alone. Message sent. Lesson learned.

I once saw a captain in the Calvary dress down one of his men for doing a thing he didn't like. Right in the middle of town and in front of everyone. The Captain yelled and screamed. The soldier stood at attention and took it.

What did that say about the captain? What did it say about the soldier?