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  After he had filled his stomach with bear’s liver Robert sat back to decide what he should do. The bear had killed his horse and the thought of being on foot in the mountains caused him considerable worry. It would be handy to have the bear’s hide if he could manage to skin him. True, it was already spring but the nights still had a chill and it would be good to have a warm fur robe to roll up in. He needed to take some of the bear meat for food as well, but there was only so much he could carry with him. Even if he could carry more, it wouldn’t keep. “I wish to hell I could make a fire,” he muttered. Then at least he could cook a little bit more of the meat to take with him.

  As he sat staring at the mutilated carcass of the bear, he heard a horse snort softly. He barely gave it a thought at first but then his heart jumped up into his throat when he remembered his horse was dead! He turned in the direction the sound had come from. At first he saw nothing and then, as the gentle breeze stirred the pine needles, causing them to dance back and forth, he saw them. There were three of them. They sat on their horses, silently watching him. Indians! Robert felt cold fear spread all the way to his fingertips.

  CHAPTER 4

  The bear is a powerful symbol to the Arapaho and Cheyenne. One who killed a grizzly took its power for himself. It took great strength as well as cunning to kill the mighty grizzly and, for that reason, Spotted Pony and his two companions were stunned by the scene they had come upon. A mere boy cannot kill a bear. That much Spotted Pony knew for certain, not unless that boy held special powers. And this boy could not have been more than ten or twelve summers. Yet there was no sign of anyone else around who might have felled this most fearsome beast of the mountains. Even though his face was partially covered with the bear’s blood, he could tell the boy was obviously white. As the boy stared up at them, Spotted Pony was reminded of a small wolf interrupted in his devouring of the animal’s liver.

  They had happened upon the dead horse back by the river and followed the obvious trail to the ravine. Since there was no bridle or saddle on the horse, they weren’t sure what they would find. There were other puzzling clues to this mystery. The horse was shod, which told them it was certainly no Indian pony. Add to that the abundance of blood that had evidently come from something other than the horse. There was a definite danger in cornering a wounded bear, if that was what had killed the horse, as it appeared. But the prospect of gaining prestige from killing a grizzly was enough to excite the three of them to follow. The scene they looked down upon now was hardly what they had expected to find.

  “So, little wolf, have we interrupted your dinner?”

  Spotted Pony’s question was met with the same blank stare that had captured the boy’s face from the first moment he discovered the Indians’ presence. It was obvious he did not understand his words.

  “Do you understand? How do you happen to be here?” Spotted Pony waited but there was still no response from the boy. Instead, the boy took a step back from the carcass, holding his knife up as if ready to defend himself. Spotted Pony made one more attempt to communicate with the child with sign language, the universal medium for all tribes of the plains. The boy still did not understand. They were at a standstill.

  Robert could not make heads or tails of the strange guttural sounds the Indian directed toward him. He had no way of knowing what their intentions were but at least they did not immediately set upon him. In fact, they showed little excitement in their emotions, seeming more curious than anything else. Unable to think of anything else to do, Robert held up a piece of the bear’s liver, extending his hand toward the Indians as an offering. This brought a smile to Spotted Pony’s face and he nudged his pony down the bank of the ravine. His two companions followed.

  Robert backed away as the three Indians gathered around the carcass of the grizzly, chattering excitedly among themselves. He couldn’t understand what they said but it was obvious to him that they were impressed as they examined the bear’s claws and teeth. Several times they looked at the beast and then looked back at him in wonder.

  Spotted Pony was especially impressed. The boy was too small to have killed the bear but somehow he had managed it. This told him that the boy had received special powers from the Great Spirit and, after he had satisfied his curiosity about the bear, he turned his attention toward Robert. It was a rare thing indeed to find a white boy in the land of the Cheyenne and the Arapaho and the Ute. That he was lost was a foregone conclusion, but how he got this far away from the white man’s forts and wagon trails was puzzling to Spotted Pony and he wondered if it was by design for him to find this little wolf.

  Spotted Pony, an Arapaho, lived with his Cheyenne brothers in Black Kettle’s village. From time to time they had contact with the white soldier chief but very seldom with white women and children. Black Kettle hoped to have peace with the soldiers but he would not lead his people to the reservation where the soldiers had directed him to settle after the Treaty of Fort Laramie. The soldiers had promised separate lands to the Cheyenne and Arapaho, as well as the Shoshone and Lakota. But the white soldiers had made many promises that blew away like so many clouds on a summer day. Spotted Pony had seen the reservation intended for his people. It would not support one hungry coyote and yet the white chief expected the entire tribe to live there. The white chief promised that he would provide food for the people and that no other whites would infringe upon this land. Some of the tribes had gone willingly to the reservation and found through their suffering the hollowness of the white man’s promises.

  Black Kettle had led his people north and west into the mountains where there were deer, antelope and elk to hunt. And now to find this young white boy, a child really, in the heart of their hunting ground should have troubled him, but he was more impressed by the courage of the lad and could not help but admire his accomplishment. He stood directly in front of the boy and gazed deep into his eyes, looking for any sign of evil intent. But there was none and Spotted Pony was glad. He smiled again at Robert and, using gestures and hand signs, asked if the boy had killed the bear. Robert understood and confirmed his kill. Spotted Pony smiled and nodded, indicating his approval.

  Robert could relax a little at last. The Indians meant him no harm. Of that he felt sure. There was a genuine look of kindness in the older one’s eyes, obviously the leader of the three. The other two were much younger and seemed to be friendly enough. They showed more curiosity about the bear than about the white boy and they eagerly ate of the liver he had offered. In fact, it occurred to the boy that this gesture had met with such success that he might go a step further and maybe gain their real friendship.

  “Sir,” he said, talking as he made gestures to convey his message, “you can have the whole dang bear.” He repeated the motions several times until he was sure the Indian understood his meaning.

  At first Spotted Pony thought he must have misunderstood the boy’s meaning. To kill a bear was a great thing. There was powerful medicine in such a feat. He had never killed a bear, not by himself anyway, and it astounded him that the boy would offer it as a gift. He smiled at Robert, studying his face intently. After a long moment, he decided that although the boy had taken the power of the great bear, he was still just a boy and might not be aware of the significance of his deed. He thought for a moment longer and then made another decision.

  “This little wolf is brave but he does not have much training,” he declared to his two younger companions. “Look at the mess he has made of gutting the beast.” This brought a laugh of agreement from the two young men. “He has shown his friendship by offering the bear so we will carry the meat back to the village so that our people can share his medicine. I will take the boy to live in my lodge. Buffalo Woman can make him a fine robe of the bear’s hide and I will make him a necklace of the claws so that everyone will know he has taken the power of the great bear.”

  Robert could not understand what the man had said and there was very little he could do but stand and watch as the three Indians set about ca
rving up his bear. In the tension of the preceding minutes, he had forgotten his hunger. Now that he was certain there was no danger for him, the gnawing returned to his stomach. So it was a welcome sight when one of the young men produced a wooden drill and sat down to make a fire, which he did in no time at all. Soon there was a bright flame and the young man kindled it with pine needles and small sticks until it was burning stoutly enough to add larger pieces of wood. Robert, not waiting to be told, scurried around gathering up more wood for the fire for he noticed that one of the men was cutting up strips of bear meat and skewering them on green branches he had just sharpened.

  Robert was amazed by the quickness, as well as the thoroughness, of the skinning and butchering. He did little more than tend the fire while the three Indians did the work. He would learn later on that the men considered this women’s work and would not have compromised their dignity if it had been convenient to leave the bear and send the women back for it. As it was, they worked steadily, chattering good-naturedly as they slit and carved, pausing occasionally to pull a hot, sizzling strip of bear meat from a skewer. Robert filled his belly with the dripping hot meat. He had never sampled bear meat before but he decided on this day that it was his favorite. For the moment he was completely at ease. His stomach was full, the fire made him warm and he felt secure with his three dinner companions.

  The boy watched, fascinated, as Spotted Pony removed the hide, along with the huge head and rolled it into a bundle. This he tied with strips of hide and sinew, then secured it on the back of his horse. The butchered portions of the animal were secured to the backs of the other two horses and then the job was finished. They had left very little for the wolves and vultures. One of the young men extinguished the fire and Spotted Pony took one last look around the ravine before leading his horse up the side. He motioned for the boy to follow. The two young men followed them.

  They walked, following the river, for what must have been several hours, long enough for the boy to begin to weary. Still he trudged along, keeping pace with the lean, slightly stoop-shouldered Indian in front of him. The man was silent as he walked, the reins of his horse held loosely in his hand. Robert did not doubt the horse would follow even if the man dropped the reins. Behind him, the two younger men followed, also in silence.

  As they walked, Robert had plenty of time to contemplate what had befallen him on that day and speculate on what might be in store for him when they reached wherever they were going. In truth, he didn’t feel that he was captured. It was more like he had been invited along. His knowledge of Indians was scant, his only exposure being that which he had experienced at Johnson’s Crossing. Most of the Indians he had seen there were drunken Pawnees, addicted to Freeman Johnson’s firewater. Except for the night of the raid of course—that night they were painted demons. Most of his other knowledge of them came from conversation he overheard from Lige Talbot and Freeman Johnson. According to them, Indians were worthless and lazy. Somehow these Indians he had met this day did not seem to fit any of those descriptions. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, he wanted to trust the silent figure he was now following.

  Robert was not the only one speculating about his future. Spotted Pony considered what an extraordinary day this had been. He thought back upon the days preceding this day’s hunt and he marveled at the miracle that had come to pass. The more he thought about it, the more he was amazed. At the same time he was a little embarrassed that he had not seen it when they had first come upon the boy. Spotted Pony had long wanted a son but it appeared that it was not to be. His first wife had died in childbirth, along with the infant. He grieved their loss for a long time before taking Buffalo Woman as his wife, only to find that she had no fertile womb to nurture his seed. He could have taken a second wife but he genuinely loved Buffalo Woman and had no desire to have two women in his tipi. Barely two moons before he had completed a four-day fast and cut off the first knuckle of his little finger in hopes Man Above would have pity on him and send him a son. And now this day had come to pass. And he had not even recognized the answer to his prayers when it had been so plainly laid out before him. Spotted Pony’s heart soared.

  At last the small party emerged from the cover of a thick stand of aspens and Robert got his first glimpse of their destination. They were descending now, having left the winding river some few miles back. The village was about a half mile below them, Robert guessed, in a grassy basin where the river formed a U-shaped bend. It looked to be no more than fifteen or twenty tipis, arranged almost in a circle, with an opening facing the east. From the look of it, it was a fairly busy little village. Robert could see people moving about and children running back and forth between the tipis. There were horses and dogs adding to the general confusion, much like any little town, he supposed. As they drew near the village, he began to feel a sinking feeling in his stomach. It had not been difficult to settle into a rather comfortable, secure feeling with the three men as they had walked most of the afternoon. But now, the thought occurred to him that he was to face an entire village of strange, maybe even hostile people. Suppose the general sentiment of the people there was not as compassionate as that of the lean old Indian he was following? The thought caused him to unconsciously draw closer to Spotted Pony.

  Robert’s fears were unfounded. There was a great deal of commotion upon the arrival of the small hunting party. Robert was indeed the object of great curiosity, as any white child would be in this part of the territory. For many of the inhabitants of the village, it was the first time they had ever seen a white child. The three men were greeted warmly when they approached the camp and with much excitement when the people saw the quantity of meat they had packed on their horses. Spotted Pony called out to his friends as they entered the circle of tipis. Robert could not understand what he said, of course, but he seemed to be telling everyone of the day’s events. This caused a great deal of excitement and men, women and children ran to meet them. Soon they were completely surrounded by a small crowd of people, pushing in closer and closer to see the white boy. Seized by a stab of terror at first, Robert soon relaxed. He saw nothing other than curiosity in the faces thrust almost into his own, followed by warm smiles and words that he took for welcome, although he could not understand them.

  Then the crowd parted to make way for a woman working her way through the men and women, gently pushing aside the young children in her path. Spotted Pony greeted her affectionately and then stood aside, his hand extended toward Robert as if presenting the boy to her. She stood silent, gazing intently at the boy for several long minutes. Finally her face broke into a smile and she said something in a low, gentle voice. Her remark evidently pleased Spotted Pony for he at once broke into a wide grin. The boy did not realize it until sometime later but, at that moment, Robert had found a home.

  Spotted Pony spoke to his wife. “My prayers have been heard. We have a son at last. It is not for us to question the Great Spirit for sending us a white son. For, though he may be white, he has been given the power of the great bear and will be a worthy son for me.”

  Buffalo Woman, still smiling broadly, replied, “He looks strong enough, except for the sickly pale skin.”

  Spotted Pony laughed. “We will call him Little Wolf. With my guidance, he will be a great warrior, a warrior with the power of the great bear.”

  * * *

  So began Robert’s education as the son of an Arapaho warrior who was a respected member of a Cheyenne village and his transformation from Robert to Little Wolf. He was to be surprised by his seeming acceptance by everyone in the small band of Indians, especially Buffalo Woman. The fact that he was a white boy and, consequently, obviously different, almost seemed to go unnoticed. Buffalo Woman adopted him instantly, even fussed over him like the pampered child she was never able to conceive. Spotted Pony wasted no time in starting the boy’s training, however, for there was little time left before the women would take down the tipis in preparation for the journey to the summer camp. Although Spotted
Pony was Arapaho, the small band he led were actually members of the tribe of the Cheyenne chief, Black Kettle. Buffalo Woman was Cheyenne and it was the custom among the Arapaho to live with the wife’s people.

  It was already late spring and soon all the bands of Black Kettle’s village would gather together for the great buffalo hunt and the dancing and ceremony, as well as to council on the future of the nation. Robert, or Little Wolf as he was now called, would learn that this was the usual lifestyle. The whole tribe only gathered during the summer when there was plenty of game on the rolling grassy hills of the plains. During the winter, the village could not survive if they did not break up into smaller groups. There was not enough food on the plains during the long cold winters to feed everyone. In the mountains it was easier to find enough game to feed a small band of people.

  Robert half expected to have to lick two or three Indian boys before being accepted by the children in the village. This was the way it had been in St. Louis. But that was not the case for the son of Spotted Pony. Little Wolf was accepted, welcomed in fact, by everyone in the village. Adults and children alike were very much in awe of the boy who had slain the mighty grizzly with only a knife. Spotted Pony made a song about the heroic deed and sang it before the village council, also performing his creation of the “Bear Dance” to act out the song. On his head, he wore the head of the grizzly. He had fashioned it to wear as a ceremonial piece, leaving enough hide and fur attached to the head to provide a short cape that covered his shoulders. The rest of the pelt had gone to provide a warm bed for Little Wolf. Buffalo Woman took special care in constructing a sleeping platform, complete with backrest, for her son. This was the custom of her husband’s people, the Arapaho, although her own bed was a pallet on the floor of the tipi, in the custom of the Cheyenne. As a badge of his power, Little Wolf wore a necklace made from the claws of the great bear. He was well established for a lad of his age by the time Spotted Pony’s band broke their winter camp and headed for the summer rendezvous in the year of 1861.