Prologue

He took her to their place in the mountains. It was their private sanctuary. For the past decade and a half they had come here after the first thunder, once they were settled into their summer camp.

The troubled Brave deep in thought walked the black stallion as his wife sat on the horse’s back examining the new forms of life that surrounded them.

When they reached the top of the highest ridge, the seasoned warrior patted the animal’s flank to let it know it was time to rest. He turned and stretched up his arms to help his wife alight.

It had been too many days that her husband had not been himself. She felt a distance between them that made her heart grow weary. They had always been so close. She always knew that in time he would share the trouble in his heart. That time had now come.

As he helped her from the horse, he took her in his arms and held her tightly. It was not an embrace of passion, but rather one in which he sought for the comfort he trusted she alone could give. As he released her from his hold she could sense the burden within his heart was heavy. She saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye as he looked into hers and then glanced away.

They stood in silence, gazing upon their village below. Her husband’s mood was ominous, and that lay heavy in her heart. For this fleeting moment, before he would speak what was in his heart, she would drink in this place of serenity. The view of the peaceful village from this vantage point always took her breath away. She always felt as one with God and nature when she was here.

She could easily see their lodge from here. She observed her two youngest children at play, carefree as their grandmother watched over them. They had shared this place that had become sacred to them for the entire time they had been married.

She turned to gaze at her husband. He was still as powerful a warrior as he had been in his youth. Now in his middle age he possessed the wisdom not to be foolish in his attempt to display bravery. The years had taught him a skill that can only be attained through experience. Given this combination he was virtually unstoppable.

She put her hand on his bare chest. She was patiently waiting for him to share what was on his mind.

He opened his hand and swept his arm as though indicating all the land that lay below. “There will come a time when the white man’s machine will cross the land of our fathers,” he said as he began to explain. “It will have the power of many horses. It will drive the buffalo away.”

These words cut deeply; not only because she could never envision change in this beautiful land, but because the white world was once her world. They would be responsible for the tragic change.

“I saw it in my vision,” the warrior said, pointing to his own deep-set eyes.

She knew there was much more. It would take some time to hear. Without him having to instruct her she knew she would build a fire. It would wait for just another minute.

She wanted to absorb the majestic sight of the village and the people she saw moving about. They were enjoying the first signs of spring. These were a people he had guided for the entire time she had known him. He was a wise and faithful chief, respected by all those who had trusted his leadership.

For the moment she entwined her arm in his and nestled close to him. “If they only knew,” she whispered. “If only they knew” …