Winona gestured and exclaimed happily, “Nate! Nate!”
Pivoting, the mountain man let out a yell of delight. He waited for her to reach him, then they ran to meet her husband. “What did I tell you?” Shakespeare said. “I knew he’d come back safe and sound.”
“Nate!” Winona shouted.
The solitary rider was leading a string of six horses. He gave a little wave and rode faster. Both the man and the animals appeared tremendously fatigued. When he reined up, he slid from the mare and seemed to sag. Straightening, he tossed his rifle to Shakespeare and opened his arms wide to embrace Winona.
His eyes narrowing, the mountain man studied the younger man’s face. “You had us a bit worried. Where the hell have you been?”
Hugging his wife close, Nate stared over her shoulder at his mentor. “Took me a little longer than I figured. Sorry.”
Shakespeare noted the haggard aspect of his friend’s features and detected—something—in Nate’s eyes, something that hadn’t been there before he left. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Another day and I would have lit out after you.”
Nate didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet fragrance of Winona’s hair.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The curt reply made Shakespeare pause. “Whatever you want, Nate. I didn’t mean to pry.” He turned and walked toward the cabin.
“Wait.”
Shakespeare halted and looked back. “What is it? I thought I’d give you some time to yourselves.”
“Are you on good terms with the Crows?”
Mystified by the unusual question, Shakespeare nodded.
“Do you know their top chief?”
“Chief Long Hair? Yep. Know him well. Why?”
“Do you know where he has his village this time of year?”
“Sure. Up near the Wind River,” Shakespeare said. “Do you mind telling me what all this is about?”
Nate whispered a few words into Winona’s ear, then released her. He stepped to his pack animal and removed a number of thin items from a pouch.
“What are those?” Shakespeare inquired.
“Eagle feathers,” Nate said, extending his arm and opening his hand to reveal five feathers.
“What in the world are you doing with those?”
“After I’ve rested up, I want you to take me to Chief Long Hair’s village. These feathers are for him.” Nate motioned at the extra horses he’d brought back. “So are they.”
Bewildered, the mountain man scratched his head and nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you want. But I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain later,” Nate promised. He took Winona’s hand and headed toward their home. “Right now there’s another favor you can do for me.”
“Anything. You know that.”
“Go for a ride.”
“A ride?” Shakespeare repeated, and gazed at Winona’s back. “Oh. Sure. At least I understand this request.”
“Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Chuckling, Shakespeare stepped to the mare and took her reins. “Don’t worry about the horses. I’ll tend to them, then go for my little ride.” He started to lead the animals toward the meadow bordering the cabin. “Say, how long do you want me to be gone, anyway?”
Nate answered without turning around. “Two or three days would be nice.”
Author’s Note
Most people are familiar with the fact that at one time there was in widespread use among American Indians a medium of communication known as sign language. Combining hand movements and arm gestures, this universal language enabled Indians from different tribes, who ordinarily spoke quite distinct languages, to converse freely and easily. In 1885 it was estimated there were 110,000 sign-talking Indians in the U.S. Since then, with so many Native Americans enjoying the presumed benefits of a modern education, there are few left who can converse in sign.
In frontier times, when the first white men went West, many of them learned this language and used it extensively in their dealings with the Indians. Not until you read the actual accounts of trappers and mountain men do you realize just how widely this was done.
Certain liberties have been taken in this book to accommodate modern sentence construction because the proper sign sequence might cause confusion. For instance, the question “How old are you?” translated into sign becomes: “Question-how-many-you-winter. “Or take another example such as, “I feel very sad.” In sign this becomes: “I-heart-on-the-ground.” I hope historical purists will forgive me for conforming to current literary form.
Indian sign language is an effective, beautiful medium of expression, and it’s unfortunate that sign is now relegated to the status of a relic from the past.
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