Son of the Hawk Read Online Free Page A

she would marry again, but for the time being, she preferred to live in her father’s tipi. White Eagle missed the man he called father, but there were many uncles, as well as Broken Arm, to oversee his training.
    “Trace,” she murmured as her thoughts drifted back to that moonless night on the Green River. Trace was the name the white men had called the young trapper.
    “What?” Broken Arm asked, as he came around the side of the tipi, thinking she had spoken to him.
    Startled by the sudden appearance of her father, Blue Water hesitated before replying, not wanting to let her father know her thoughts. “Nothing, Father, I was just singing to myself.” Even though many years had passed since the rendezvous on the Green River, Broken Arm was still troubled whenever he suspected his daughter had thoughts of the young trapper.
    “I have just been talking with the elders and we have decided to start for Fort Laramie tomorrow, so you must finish your preparations today,” Broken Arm stated.
    Blue Water nodded and continued grinding the kernels of wild grain. After a thoughtful moment, she paused again and asked, “Why does Washakie want to go to the council with the white chiefs? Fort Laramie is a long way from our country. Why should we worry about the soldiers?”
    Accustomed to his daughter’s habit of questioning the decisions of the elders, Broken Arm patiently answered her. “Washakie is right. It is important that the soldier-chiefs know that the powerful Shoshonisshould be informed of any treaties made with the white men. Bridger, the great friend of the Shoshoni, has told Washakie that the soldiers called this meeting with our enemies, the Sioux, the Cheyenne, Arapaho, Crow, Arikara, Assiniboine, Gros Ventres, and Mandan. Although the Shoshonis have been friendly with the white man for many years, we were not asked to attend this meeting which may greatly effect the future of all Indians. We must be there to protect our traditional hunting ground. The Great White Father in Washington must know that the Shoshoni people will not permit the Sioux and the Cheyenne to trespass on our lands.”
    Blue Water nodded without further reply, indicating that she understood. Washakie was a wise chief, so she was sure that this was a necessary journey. Inside she still wished that her people would stay away from the soldier forts. She felt reluctant to leave the land of the Shoshoni. Here they were strong, protected by the lofty ridges of the Bitterroots to the west, and the massive Bighorns to the east. The soldiers had no business here. Let them build their roads through the Arapaho country to the south.
It is not for a woman to decide
, the words of the elders rang through her head. She sighed to herself and went back to preparing her meal.
    Early the next morning, the village prepared itself for the long journey to Fort Laramie. Blue Water helped her aunts take down the tipi, folding the buffalo-hide covering and tying it to a packhorse. Fashioning a travois with two of the lodge poles, she loaded the entire contents of the tipi and strapped them down. After she had prepared food for her father and White Eagle, she packed her cooking utensils in a parfleche and strapped it to the loaded travois. The village was on the move before the sun had climbed to the tops of the pines on the eastern ridge. Blue Water rode on abay pony, leading the packhorse with the travois. Her son rode beside his grandfather on a spotted gray pony that Eagle Claw had given to him. The sight of the boy’s confident posture as he rocked gracefully in rhythm with his pony’s gait, brought a warm smile to Blue Water’s face.
    *   *   *
    Buck Ransom walked his pony across the wide parade ground, past the post headquarters, heading toward the post trader’s store. Laramie had changed quite a bit since the old days when the inner courtyard of the old fort used to be busy with Indians and trappers. The old fort by the Laramie River had been