If She Were Mine (The Medicine Man #6)

PROLOGUE

A NOTE ABOUT THE WORD "INDIAN"

At this time in history, the term "Native American" did not exist. The Indians were called simply "Indians," although within their own culture they were more usually known by their tribal name.

Also, even in the present day, depending upon the tribe, American Indians often call themselves "Indians" and are proud of it (as an example, the Blackfeet "Indian Days Pow-wow").

This is true of the Blackfeet, the Lakota and many of the other northern tribes.

There are, however, several tribes I know of who prefer to be called "Native American" or, in some cases, "First American.

" But, once again, these are modern terms and simply did not exist at the time period of this novel.

Additionally, Russell Means, one of the founders of the American Indian Movement, has stated that the commonly held history of this word "Indian" is not accurate. In the words of Russell Means:

Source:

PROLOGUE

Northwest Indian Country

Territory of the Blackfeet

The Month When Geese Come (May), 1871

Máóhkataatoyi, Red Fox, watched as Pokaa'aakíí (Poka'aki), Child Woman, raised her hand and shouted, "Watch me take down this buffalo calf with one shot!"

"Saa! Wait! Do not shoot! There are—"

BLAST!

It was too late! The damage was done. Hadn't Poka'aki, or as the whites called her, Briella Fehér, seen the buffalo herd hidden in the shallow plain-like valley below?

And now the buffalo, having heard the shot, would assume hunters were close by; it would cause them to stampede. But, perhaps their direction might be to run along the valley rather than to climb the hill and…

As Red Fox heard the unmistakable thunder of hundreds or perhaps thousands of the buffalo's hooves coming closer and closer to him, he knew the stark reality of what this was: a stampede on its way—toward him and Poka'aki.

There was, perhaps, nothing more terrifying to the heart of a man than the tremendous force and speed of a stampeding herd of buffalo on the run: the sound of snapping wood, the whooshing of shrubs and bushes, as well as the quaking and rattling of the ground.

Even now the air carried the dirt and rocks kicked high into the air by those buffalo's hooves. With a sinking heart, Red Fox knew the herd would be here before Poka'aki had time to get out of the way, and if she didn't move fast enough, they would trample her to death.

"Get out of here!" he shouted and waved at her. "Quick! Leave here! Go! Fast!"

But, he knew his words were useless. All sound was blocked except the thunder of the stampede.

In a time quicker than it took to think it, Red Fox knew that George— who was Poka'aki's brother as well as Red Fox's own brother-in-law, also spoken of as his almost-brother—was too far away to come to her rescue.

George had left their hunting party early in the morning, his intention having been to return to the tribe and report this enormous herd of buffalo to the chiefs, letting them decide if they would call a tribal hunt of the buffalo or secure a buffalo caller to send the herd, one and all, over the cliff of the pisskan, the buffalo jump.

Inwardly, Red Fox cringed. Because of his and Poka'aki's actions here today, the stampede would interfere with the tribe's ability to obtain enough food for winter storage, since a stampeding herd of buffalo could run through the day and into the night, taking its vast supply of food completely out of Blackfoot territory.

This was why, whenever a large mass of buffalo was spotted, the chiefs banned all hunting until the tribe's men could, as a single body, hunt the game.

On this very day, the chiefs had sent both Red Fox and George—two scouts—out from the camp to look for buffalo. No one else in the tribe yet knew this large herd was even here. And, now it would soon be gone.

The thunderous, ground-shaking roar of the stampede caused all further thought to cease.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Red Fox caught sight of the black, horned creatures coming directly at him.

Just then, his horse reared as a wave of the hairy black beasts surrounded him and his mount, pushing him and his pony in alongside of them.

With a quick action, Red Fox brought his pony under control. There was no running from the buffalo now, but he was on the other side of the herd from Poka'aki.

Because the sharp-horned cows crowded in from every side, enveloping him, his pony was forced to keep time with the stampede.

Red Fox spared a glance behind him to see the blackened masses of the animals to the rear of him, seeming as though they were without end.

Indeed, there was to be no retreat from them.

Once more, he looked toward Poka'aki, seeing she was caught up within the herd, as was he. He had to save her—but how?

He was on the complete opposite side from her of the solid mass of charging buffalo.

He knew well that even the best of horses could not last for long within a fleeing herd of these animals; the buffalo's lungs were large and strong, and the muscles in their legs were sturdy, allowing them to run both day and night without ever stopping.

Not so a horse. Even the best buffalo horse could not long keep up with a running buffalo herd; instead, a good pony was trained to take his master toward a buffalo, allowing the man to grab a quick shot, and then to retreat, carrying himself and his rider to the side of the terrorized animals.

Glancing at Poka'aki to his left and across the field of terror-stricken and plunging buffalo, he took stock of her horse—a three-year-old mare not trained to a buffalo run.

Her horse wouldn't last longer than a breath.

Worse, Red Fox could see she had lost control of the reins and was clinging to the pony's mane, the reins being dragged behind, which could be stepped on by a buffalo…

All Indian hunters knew that the only way to remain alive in a buffalo stampede was to gradually guide one's horse to the edge of the stampede, and then leave the massive push of the herd. But, without reins? How was she to guide her horse?

With a sinking heart, Red Fox knew Poka'aki's chances of surviving the stampede were all but impossible.

But, she must survive! She must! She, the girl he had loved for so many years!

He had to get to her! Her horse would soon become tired and be overrun by the sharp hooves of the buffalo pushing in on her from behind, trampling them both into the ground.

His one chance to save her was to guide his horse toward hers and then lead them both to the side. And, this he would do; this he must do.

In a moment set out of time, he devised a plan. He knew that the buffalo do not see well; they follow the leading cow in front of them, creating little paths within the stampede.

Poka'aki was slightly ahead of him, and he counted at least three or perhaps four rows of buffalo between her and himself.

All he had to do was to kill the buffalo on his left and take its place in the path behind the cow ahead of it.

He would do this two or more times until her pony was on his left.

Reaching down to pull his rifle from its case, he found the case empty.

Empty? Without a gun to clear each pathway to his left, how was he to get to her?

Quickly, he reached behind him, his hand lingering for a moment over his bow and arrows.

With the gun having taken the place of the bow and arrow for most Pikuni men, the quivers were seldom worn anymore.

However, today he had placed both upon his back, thinking to kill an animal quietly with the bow and arrow rather than announce where he was by the boom of a gun.

Pulling the bow from its quiver, as well as many arrows, he placed all but one arrow into his mouth, and, holding them with his teeth, he fitted the first arrow to his bow. He took aim.

Whish! The arrow went in well below the ribs, straight into the heart of the buffalo. The animal made only one more jump before it went down. With his knees, Red Fox guided his pony into the downed buffalo's place. He did the same with the next buffalo, taking its place.

Only one more row of the bulls and cows, and he would be next to her. But, her horse was now plunging about madly, making it difficult for Poka'aki to stay her seat.

But, what was this? What was wrong with her saddle?

How could it have come loose? And yet, with another plunge, the saddle flew back onto the rear of the pony.

Worse, Poka'aki had lost her grip on the animal's mane and was desperately holding on to the horse's neck.

All it would take was one more jump and Poka'aki would fall from her horse and be trampled.

His heart stopped for a moment. But, he was only one pathway and a jump away from her horse.

Quickly taking aim with another arrow, he shot at the closest buffalo to his left directly behind its ribs to its heart, and, as the buffalo went down, Red Fox and his pony took its place.

Then, by whacking his bow on his horse's flanks, he came to be even with Poka'aki. She was falling off her horse!

Reaching out to his left, Red Fox caught Poka'aki by the waist and pulled her up onto his own mount, laying her crosswise in front of him.

Because the sharp horns of the buffalo were closing in around him again, he didn't have a moment to set her up straight.

Indeed, he knew his horse, with its double load, could not long keep pace with the frightened buffalo, especially since Red Fox sensed his pony was winded.

However, using his bow, he kept the animal in step with the buffalo, despite his pony fighting for breath.

Then, taking up his bow again, he positioned another arrow to the bow, took aim and felled the buffalo to his left.