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over the rough terrain.
    It was only then, once under way, that Neeheeowee surveyed the land around him as though he, himself, were an eagle.
    He drew a deep breath. These were the lands of his southern, Cheyenne kin, the lands patrolled by the Cheyenne, the Kiowa, the Comanche. This land he loved; this land where dry, arid heat absorbed moisture and rain as though the earth itself were a hungry beast.
    It was here where Grandmother Earth ravaged the landscape; here that Neeheeowee beheld the jutting cliffs set against the horizon in hues of brown, orange, and gray; here where the barren streams spouted red soil instead of water. He gazed around him at the brown-and-red earth with sprinkles of green, where hidden dangers lurked unknown in the dark recesses of the rocks.
    These plains were his home; the sky his tepee, the ground his sleeping robe. And if the life he had made for himself out here was sometimes lonely, so be it. In truth, Neeheeowee preferred it this way, had lived this way since the death of his wife and unborn child.
    “How long do you plan to stay with us?”
    Neeheeowee shot a glance toward his friend. “I will stay long enough to trade and then, though I am grateful for your hospitality, I will be gone. Once I have the weapons I need, I will have other matters to attend to.”
    Mahoohe nodded. “That is as I had expected. I hope, though, that you will stay a while longer, perhaps relax with us.”
    Neeheeowee raised his chin, a movement calculated to cover up the feeling of vulnerability that had quickly come upon him. He said, “I cannot stay long.”
    “I know.”
    Neeheeowee nodded, needing to explain no more. His brother-in-law understood. At least, a little.
    “You will go and seek out the Pawnee?”
    “Haahe, yes,” Neeheeowee said. “When I at last own the superior weapon, when I at last can make the enemy cower, I will finally put an end to the torture that my wife’s spirit must endure. Only then can she walk the spirit path to the hereafter. And this, you must know, I will do. I will free her spirit. These eight ponies that you see here? They represent all my hard efforts this past year. I have known that if I could train these ponies, I would be in a better position to trade for the white man’s fire-sticks. And now that we are at peace with the Kiowa, I can obtain all I desire. Plus I can trade also for supplies.”
    “We will give you all that you need in supplies.”
    Neeheeowee lifted his chin. He did not intend to take anything from his southern kin, except what good manners dictate that he accept. But he couldn’t tell Mahoohe that. His friend would take it as an insult. And so, although Neeheeowee murmured a polite acceptance, he knew he would not infringe much on his friend’s hospitality.
    Hadn’t he taken enough from them already? Wasn’t their sister’s life enough?
    Their sister.
    His responsibility.
    His wife.
    Neeheeowee frowned. Twenty seasons of the moon; five winters. All of it wasted; all of it spent in learning who had done it, who had killed those he’d loved. Which Pawnee? Who personally? Each and every one of them, for there had been several who had done it.
    Though, in truth, only one had “turned the knife.” Only one had raped his wife; only one had cut open her belly to slaughter the babe inside, while the mother had still lived.
    Neeheeowee narrowed his eyes, his only show of emotion.
    Only one would know a slow death.
    Neeheeowee suppressed the shudder of reaction that always came with these thoughts and set his gaze, once more, to the fore, his lips set, his chin tilted forward.
    As soon as he had these weapons…
    A pony whinnied and Neeheeowee looked back with a quick reflex, but seeing nothing more than the horses nipping at one another, he turned his gaze again before him.
    Such fine animals. At one time, he might have felt proud of the feat he had performed this past year in catching these ponies, but he would not allow himself to feel that