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the small bands camped around the southern territories. But now the weather has grown bitterly cold, and I fear that I may be shut in until spring.
    This has been a troubling year. Sitting Bull and his people accomplished a great feat, from the Indian’s standpoint. He and his remaining band are now holed up in the Cyprus Hills. The North West Mounted Police are intent on getting them back south to their own side of the border as the law does not allow fugitives from justice to be harbored. Personally I feel great compassion for them. I tried to get permission to visit their camp but was refused. Their presence here has caused much tension among the tribes of the Canadian plains. It did not help when the Northern Indians signed a treaty in August. Many others saw it as giving in to the demands of the whites. Perhaps even Sitting Bull’s short-lived victory has made them realize that they will never be the winners in the situation.
    This is a great time of change for the Indian people and things will continue to get worse. I long to share the Gospel with them, for I fear that the only way they will make it through the dark years ahead is with the help of God. May He grant us wisdom in our dealings with them.
    I do wish you and your families a blessed and joyous Christmas season. May the presence of the Christ of Christmas warm your hearts and fill your being.
    Sincerely in Him,
Martin D. Forbes,
Minister of Our Lord

    When spring finally came again, Running Fawn welcomed it, even though it was not the same as it had always been at their former winter camp. It turned out that the chief had not returned his band to the shelter of the Rockies and the spot Running Fawn loved. The small girl had mourned silently as they had settled into the camp in the draw near the Bow River, but she knew there would be no advantage in protesting. The chief knew what was best for his people.
    As the first crocuses began to appear on the bare, brown hills, her heart began to sing again. She felt that she was finally released from the heavy burden that was far more than the snows of winter, though she could not have put into words the heaviness that had troubled her heart.
    Through the summer months the band became nomadic, following the herds of buffalo that still dotted the prairie. There was talk about the lessening of the great numbers, but when they went on the hunt, there were still a multitude of animals to be quickly skinned and hides that would later be tanned. Running Fawn saw no cause for alarm and her mother seemed to share her feelings.
    Over the winter months the new baby had arrived—a boy. Her mother had offered her thanks to the Sun God in appreciation. The baby seemed healthy, and even Running Fawn could not resist the smiles and coos of her new brother.
    She took her turn with the cradle board and even enjoyed the experience. She found herself secretly sharing thoughts with the small baby that she dared not voice to anyone else.
    The summer hunts were good, and Running Fawn hoped most fervently that the band would return to the hills for their winter camp. Surely there would be no reason for them to stay on the prairies again. But just when she thought it was about time for them to be breaking up the summer camp, word came that there was to be another large gathering at Blackfoot Crossing along the Bow River.
    The news made Running Fawn tremble. Would her world forever be in turmoil? When would things get back to normal again?

    September 28, 1877
    Dear Brethren,
    I have just witnessed a most spectacular occasion. I still have mixed feelings about the outcome, but perhaps it will work for good.
    The great Blackfoot Nation gathered at Blackfoot Crossing on the Bow River to discuss the signing of a treaty. Some of the tribes to the north, the Cree, Assiniboines, and Ojibwas, signed a treaty last year. Now Chief Crowfoot has called together his people.
    At first it looked like the Bloods would boycott the agreement, as only