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seemingly very open. I met their chief, Calls Through The Night, at the gathering and we had many good conversations. He did not seem at all opposed to letting me join them. He even invited me into his tent to share a meal and meet his family.
    He has three living children. The oldest daughter is already married to a young warrior. I didn’t take to her husband—nor him to me. He seems most distrustful and sullen. However, she seemed pleasant enough. The next child, a girl, is sickly and small for her age. She has one deformed leg and walks with quite a limp. The boy, whom I would guess to be ten or eleven, is likeable and very bright. His dark eyes sparkle and he takes in everything. I have my eye on him for future leadership. May God grant me wisdom in leading him to the way of Truth.
    Living with the tribe will be enormously beneficial for my language studies.
    This is a lengthy epistle, but I do covet your prayers.
    Sincerely in His service,
Martin D. Forbes,
Minister of Christ
    P.S. You may be amused to know that they have favored me with an Indian name. Speaks With Full Mouth. I am hard-pressed to know if it is complimentary.

    Slowly the great nation began to disentangle itself and small bands scattered across the prairies. The deed was done. The treaty signed. Many were relieved that they had been instrumental in bargaining rights for their people. Many others felt misgivings. Would the future prove them to have been wrong? Others felt annoyance, even betrayal. The great chiefs should have stood and fought. The land was theirs—had always been theirs. They should have wrested it back from the white intruders—all of it. But the malcontents were few in number and hardly in the position to voice their views loudly.
    Along with the little band of Calls Through The Night, a young white man sat in his saddle. He could scarcely believe his good fortune. No, not good fortune—the divine leading of Almighty God. He had been invited by the chief himself to winter with them in the distant hills. His prayer had been answered. He had been given a people. A people to love and to instruct and to lead to the Lord. His heart was full as he watched the small column move forward across the prairie. They were such beautiful, proud people. So bright of eye and strong of back.
    One young man in particular had caught his attention. The chief’s son, Silver Fox, had impressed him from their first meeting over a shared meal in the chief’s tent. He watched the young lad now as he called to his friend while wrestling a heavily laden travois into position behind a reluctant pony.
    “Are you ready, Speaks With Full Mouth?” he called over in his native tongue when he saw Martin watching him.
    “I am ready, Silver Fox,” Martin replied carefully with the unfamiliar words. A delighted grin was the boy’s response as he swung up on the pony.

    Running Fawn found the measured pace of the band at odds with her inner excitement. She was going . At last things had settled. They could once again be as they had been.
    True, the treaty that had been signed had identified their allotted reserve as many days’ travel from their usual winter campsite. But there was nothing in the treaty that required them to desert their lifestyle and stay within the confines of the Reserve. It was as her father said. There were still buffalo on the plains, still deer in the forest. There were still fish in their stream and roots and berries in the hills. There was no reason for concern. They would still be a free people.

Chapter Five
    The Buffalo
    Running Fawn hurried along the path, water bucket in hand. It was her first trip to the spring since returning to winter camp from the open prairies. She could hardly wait to see her favorite spot again. If she rushed, she would have some time to linger. Her mother surely would know that she needed a little while to just look and enjoy.
    The stream was rather low for that time of year. For one moment Running Fawn