Resisting Fate - Part One Of Three free porn video

I spent the warm season hunting beaver along the shores of the great river. The hunt was good, but too many days had passed and each one was now shorter than the last. Cold winds were already blowing from the North and soon the white snows would be falling from the sky. I knew that if I were to return to my home fires before thick drifts filled the land, I would be forced to cut through the rolling hills of the Arapaho.

It was a brisk morning, and the skies were painted with the deepest blue. I was riding my pony, staying in the low valleys between the hills, when I saw the smoke rising in the distance. I knew I should have taken it as a warning, but I am a warrior and became curious as to what had caused this fire. I resolved to go toward this smoke and see its source for myself.

This was dangerous because I am of the Crow and there is great traditional rivalry between our people and the Arapaho. I did not seek war that day, so my intent was only to satisfy my curiosity and then to pass as unnoticed as I may. With this thought in mind, I rode my pony near the crest of the hill until I was able to see what was happening in the valley below.

The fire was coming from the remains of a wooden lodge of the kind the Whites prefer. Their farm had been tilled across the land, but now it was nothing but a smoking ruin. Four warriors of the Arapaho were scouting the remains and collecting the spoils of their raid. I had no more love for the Whites than I have for the Arapaho, and these Whites had arrogantly built their home in lands that were not theirs to farm. This was not my concern and I was about to leave when I heard the woman scream.

One of the warriors was dragging her from some hidden place under their lodge. Her shrieks of fear carried easily up to my hill top. The four warriors whooped excitedly at their good fortune, and I knew then she was in a danger that went far beyond the loss of her life.

I reminded myself that this was the land of the Arapaho, and that I was as much an intruder here as the white woman. I was but a single warrior and would be a fool to interfere, but my mouth filled with a bitter taste. It was the taste of cowardice and it sickened me deep in my belly. I could not stand and watch while such a dishonor took place. I have seen such evil done by the whites, of course, but to stand by while the people of the plains acted like them chaffed me. It was not something I could allow. I lifted my bow and kicked my pony on, riding hard toward the four.

My war call carried on the wind and caught the four by surprise. I was almost within bow range before they lifted their rifles. Leaning over the side of my horse, I gave them as small a target as possible. In their shock at being attacked by a lone brave, they hurried their shots and the bullets whistled past.

I rose on my pony and let fly my first arrow, striking one of them hard. I turned and circled, ducking behind my pony's body again as the remaining three tried desperately to track my path. Bullets whistled by and tore at the ground, but these warriors relied more on the magic of the Whites than on their own skill and their shots failed to find me. One after another, I rose and let my arrows fly until the four lay fallen on the ground.

My heart pounded from the rush of battle and my blood ran hot with the joy of being alive. I should have been proud of my victory, and even then my songs of it should have been forming on my lips. But in saving this woman, I realized now that I would be responsible for her care and safety. It was a sobering thought. After killing four brave men in front of her, how could I convince this woman I meant her no harm?

I rode within a few feet from where she knelt on the ground and offered my hand in friendship. "Come," I said. "I am Red Elk and I will take you to safety."

Of course, she did not understand my tongue, and she spoke in words that were never before heard by my ears. She was frantic and backed away as I approached. When I dismounted my pony, she began to run.

"Where are you going?" I called and I resolved not to chase her. I could only offer my help but I would not force her to take it. I could only hope she would realize that staying here would mean her death.

White women wear far too many clothes, and within a few steps, she tripped over her own skirts and tumbled to the ground. She was a mass of torn blue cloth and long golden hair and I could see how very beautiful she was. Despite her fear and anger, she appeared comical to me and I could not suppress my laugh.

She sputtered on in her tongue, saying words I thought sure must pain her lips to form. Rather than frighten her more, I resolved to prepare for our journey by gathering the ponies that once belonged to the fallen Arapaho. She would choose with to stay with the dead or come with me to the forests of my people. I would not force her hand.

*

Scared and frightened were, to say the least, how I felt. With all I had been through I'd come too far to let some savage man-beast take me away. He was jabbering on in a language I didn't understand and kept trying to help me up. I was in a state of shock. He came out of nowhere and killed four men who were going to do God knows what to me, for what? Did he think that meant he owned me? Who did he think he was?

Watching four lunatics kill my husband, a man I hardly knew, in a country that wasn't my own, was not where I thought my life would lead me. My mother told me “Elsie, he's a good man, a man who will give you a better life, a safer life than you can get here. The world is changing and you need to change with it. You're young and pretty and educated, take this chance.”

She said that as if I had a choice in the matter. She and my father had pre-arranged this marriage with this man, without my consent. I knew it was going to happen eventually, as it did with my older sisters, who were married off quickly. Seven of us in total, not including my five brothers. They kept the boys. They were big and strong and could work to bring money in. I was the third to last to be sold off... At least that is how I saw it.

Growing up in France, we were raised to higher standards than most. Even the poorer families were. I was the shyest of the kids. I always preferred to play alone and not spend time outside of the family. Even then, Mother told me I needed to socialize, I needed friends. I was just too scared and timid to go out and make them. Even when all the other kids were out, I would have rather been with Mother, learning to do grown up things. She taught me how to cook and clean and even nurse the others when they were sick or got hurt. She loved that I took in all this knowledge without a struggle.

My mother was determined to make ladies of us girls, teaching us proper English in addition to our native French. She knew it would one day come in use. As it happened, my future husband came from America where English is the spoken language.

The man I met was handsome, I could not deny that. He was just a few years older than I, with short, dark hair and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. He was in good shape from all the farming he'd done throughout his life. Working outside tends to do that. His arms were thick, like tree trunks, with thighs to match. I could tell right away that he had a gentle soul. He had a soft laugh that always made me smile when I heard it.

Even with all that, I was still being forced to marry him and to be his wife. I was to bear his children and to be with him until the end of my days. It seemed terribly unfair that I should have no choice in this. I was harsh with him at first. I did not want to go, nor did I want to leave my country or my family. He seemed to understand, sometimes making me angrier that he did, but he was still taking me.

The wedding was small, but the gifts from my family were generous. That very night, we were on a boat for the long haul back to his country. He tried, at first, to get to know me, but I refused. It took days before I'd even speak to him. Once I did open up, I found that I enjoyed his company and allowed myself to know him better. He told me about his life growing up and what he wanted for his... for our future.

One thing he never did was push me to fulfill my marital duty with him. He said he would only want me when I was ready to love him. I was greatly surprised by his restraint and I asked him, “What if I never love you?”

My question seemed to cause him pain, but he merely shrugged. “You will, in time, I know you will.”

It was a welcome relief he kept to his word, never once pushing himself onto me. We shared a bed and I was much comforted by the warmth of his body next to me.

I was content in my time with him. I liked him well enough, but even after being in his country and building a home together, my love for him wasn't there. I simply didn't feel it. He was a good man, an honest man, and a smart one too. After a year of marriage, and being in this foreign land, I tried to force myself to love him. I even thought of letting him have me despite my lack of love, but I dared not. Something inside me wouldn't allow it. I just didn't know what that something was.

Now he'd been taken from me, murdered in front of my eyes. These wild men gave not a second thought to slitting his throat. He was hopelessly overpowered. No matter how big or strong a man is, four to one is almost impossible odds. He knew there was a chance of Indians coming.

We had dealt with them before. The savages had taken from our gardens or stolen a horse now and then. My husband always made sure I hid in the root cellar whenever these men came. This time, they wouldn't be satisfied with a few tomatoes or a pig. They wanted blood and blood is what they got.

Then, just when I thought all of my concern for my life and my virtue was wasted, a handsome, dark skinned man came galloping out of nowhere and into the horrific smoke filled, blood stained yard. With deadly accuracy, he slaughtered the evil men who destroyed my home and killed my husband.

The man was joyous in his victory and his native whoops and calls filled me with fright. He held out his hand and spoke to me. I didn't understand. Fearing for my life, I ran, desperately trying to escape, only to trip and fall to the ground.

I expected him to be on me, but instead he laughed and his eyes were full of humor and amazement. He didn't seem at all interested in hurting me. I watched as he gathered supplies, still thinking he might do to me those same things as the others had planned.

When once more he held his hand, I began to understand he was trying to help me! What else could I do? Who else could I have hoped to depend on? It was insane, but I had no other choice. Getting up from the ground, I brushed off my dress the best I could.

There were some things I couldn't part with, and I made him wait while I picked through the remains of my life. It might have seemed foolish, but these were things I'd brought from France and they were all I had left of a life that was now gone forever.

Then came my husband's body. Seeing him lying in the dirt broke my heart, and I knew I could not leave him like that. With tears flooding down my face, I struggled with the heavy pick, trying with all my strength to dig a proper grave for a man who had treated me with such dignity.

My efforts seemed hopeless. The ground was hard and I could barely turn it at all. That's when the Indian took the handle from me and dug the grave himself.

Later, with that handsome man on his horse's back, I tried my best to mount my own. I am a good rider, but I was exhausted from the pain and heartache, and I was too shaken to lift myself onto the horse. I noticed the warrior watching me, almost laughing as I fell. I had no strength left, and was almost in tears when he finally climbed off his horse and came to mine. With surprising ease he lifted me onto its back and placed the reins in my hands.

Mumbling to himself, with words I didn't understand, he shook his head and got back up on his own. I may not have known exactly what he said, but I has a pretty good idea of what he was thinking.

*

"This white women is crazy," I said to the wind as I finally got her on her pony. She covered herself with so many clothes that the sun must have made her mind weak. I understood her need to bury her husband. While we prefer to burn our dead, I would not expect her to leave his body for the buzzards.

What I did not understand was her need to collect so many worthless things. She filled a bag big enough to burden the pony! Did she not realize where we were? Did she not understand that we would need to move out of these lands before we were found by the Arapaho? If a woman or child of my people had acted so foolishly, I would have put them over my knee! I should have forced her to leave those things, but for some reason, I could not bring myself to do it. I decided instead that if those things made her happy, then she could keep them. It was past midday before we finally left that killing ground.

I was pleased that she could ride well enough. All through the afternoon she prattled and chirped in her strange tongue. I had no idea what she was saying, but her tone was nagging, as if she were scolding me. Occasionally, I would turn and stare at her with no smile and she would blanch fearfully, as if she feared I would hurt her. It may have been mean in spirit, but each time I turned back toward the horizon, I could not help but smile in amusement. There was just something about this woman that I found irresistible.

I had never seen a White woman up close before. Her pale skin and long, golden hair seemed to glow in the sun, and her eyes sparkled with the deepest blue of the sky. If I were to have chosen a woman, I would have been lucky to find one as pleasing to my eye. If only she would shed those useless layers of clothing. They covered her body like a sack, hiding her female shape. I found myself wondering what she would look like bathing in a pond. It was a pleasant thought. Considering the soot and dirt that now covered her, I knew it would not be long before I got my chance.

I could simply have taken her as my woman, of course. I had saved her life, and she had chosen to come with me. Among my people and the people of the plains, her becoming mine would be expected. But she was of the Whites, and I was not sure of their ways. As I wanted her to be happy with me, I would not force her to share my lodge. To gain her trust, I would first have to learn her ways. That night, when we slept, she stayed on the far side of the fire, preferring the cold wind at her back to the warmth of my body. I knew then she was going to be a difficult woman to tame.

That morning, I woke at dawn and spent an hour hunting for game. When I returned, she looked miserable and sad and she glared angrily at me, as if I was the cause of her misfortune. She spoke in her tongue again, making words that made no sense. I knew that if she were ever to be tamed and brought to heel she would need to learn my words.

I held up my catch, saying 'iisashp í te' so she would know the word. I was pleased to see she understood and she pointed at it and repeated it back to me. Then she added 'rabbit', the name the creature held in her tongue. This was good, for soon we might both know enough to finally be able to speak.

I smiled to let her know I was happy and I dropped the carcass by the fire so that she might clean and cook it for our morning meal.

*

After the exchange of learning the word rabbit in his tongue, he dropped the rabbit by the fire. I assumed he expected me to skin and cook it. Apparently, men are men regardless of the color of their skin. Little did he know, my brothers back home had taught me to do just that. They always told me it was a good skill to learn. I know how much I surprised my husband when I first moved here and knew how to do dress an animal without his help.

I stood up with confidence, and brushing my dress off, I dug into my bag and retrieved the knife given to me by one of my brothers as a wedding gift. I always used it to skin small game. Within minutes, I had it cooking over the fire. My rescuer stared at me, speechless for once, as I deftly readied the meal, I did my best not to smile at his shock.

Even with food in my stomach, I couldn't shake the chill that had worked down into my bones. It was bitterly cold and I missed my husband's warmth. I dared not to sleep near the man who saved me, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. However, the more I looked at him, the kinder he seemed. His eyes were gentle and full of curiosity.

Once fed, I began to feel the dirt and grime that covered me. I couldn't help but think how much I'd love a chance at a bath. My husband and I would often bathe in a pond on our land, and I so wanted to find a stream or river to clean up in and feel human again. I wanted to ask this man where I could wash, but how could I? Heck, I didn't even know how to ask him his name!

While he was gathering things up from breakfast, I stepped towards him, resting my hand on his arm to get his attention. The heat of his skin was a welcomed feeling and I wanted to touch him further, to explore his body with my hands. Touching him so sent an unexpected surge through me and I felt a rush of something that would have been hard for me to admit, even to myself.

“What is your name?" I asked, speaking slowly, thinking it would help him understand.

He simply looked at me in confusion. His brows pulled together as I repeated the question. I wasn't sure how else I could ask him. I couldn't keep calling him my rescuer. That simply wouldn't do. That's when I decided to try telling him mine.

“I'm Elsie,” I said softly as I brought my other hand to my chest, trying to explain. “Elsie,” I said again. “What is your name?” I brought my hand again to his bare skin and slipped my fingers inside his open vest. His well-defined muscles were exposed, rippling over his chest and stomach. Only a small trail of dark hair traveled from his belly button down under his buck skin trousers.

He looked at my hand and brought his own down to rest over mine. He held it there, flat against his skin for a long moment before moving both to my chest. “Elsie.”

My name coming out of his mouth sounded like pure silk running over my naked body. I felt a chill race over me as I looked up into his eyes.

“Yes, I'm Elsie,” I said, my gaze holding his. “Now, what is yours?” I asked as I brought our hands to his chest again.

"Ma ȟ p í ya S á pa,” he finally said. "Ma ȟ p í ya S á pa,” he repeated, before he moved our hands to my chest again. “Elsie.”

I tried several times to say his name, but his words were simply too hard for me to form. Patiently, he repeated it again and again, but to no avail.

Then he smiled and pulled an elk hide from his bed roll. It was a rusty red in color and he pointed at it, repeating the words "Ma ȟ p í ya S á pa.” In a moment, understanding dawned and I smiled brightly. "You are Red Elk! And I’m Elsie.” I smiled and a wide and happy grin appeared on his weathered face.

“Red Elk... Elsie,” he said again, seemingly tasting the names together, just as I had done a moment before.

Next, I had to find a way to ask him where I could bathe. I had no idea how to go about asking him. Instead, I reluctantly let go of his hand and went seeking for a nearby pond or a river myself. I knew that with no husband or family to lean on, I would have to depend on my own wits.

Leaving my stuff behind, I wandered around, not wanting to go too far away from camp. Red Elk watched me leave, but said nothing as I went. He must have had some idea of what I had in mind. That, or he simply didn't care if I just left on my own. I thought perhaps, that since he'd gotten me safely away from the others, he didn't feel a need to keep an eye on me anymore.

It wasn't long before I found a stream. The slowly moving water curved through the land and passed through a grove that I felt would be thick enough to give me the privacy I needed. The water looked cool and refreshing and offered a pleasant escape from the sun as it beat fiercely down upon me. Undressing, I tried my best to keep covered, and I ripped along the bottom half of one of my skirts to use as a wash cloth. With a quick glance around, I slipped into the water, hopefully without being seen.

It was like heaven, relaxing in the soothing water as I listened to the wind pass through the trees surrounding me. The soft sound of animals skittering through the wooded area became apparent and for the first time since the attack, I felt at peace. I listened to the sounds of nature, not as an observer, but as if I were actually a part of it.

I was resting in the water, taking my time as I tried hopelessly to wash away the lingering smell of smoke from my hair. The horrid scent seemed cling to me, as if refusing to let me forget the tragedy I'd been put through. I dunked my head and scrubbed desperately until at least most of the foul stench was washed away.

All the while, I kept thinking of Red Elk. I wondered if he was married and if he had children of his own. I wondered why he out traveling alone and where he was coming from when he came upon me. He sure was handsome and knowing how good his hands felt in mine made me curious of him touching other areas of my body. I was shocked that I should be thinking such things when I never even thought of my own husband in such a way. I just couldn't help it. There was something about Red Elk I couldn't ignore.

*

Elsie. I did not know what it meant, but the sound came off her lips like a warm breeze. It was a pleasant sound and I said it several times after she walked away. Elsie. Elsie. I found I liked saying it. It was as exotic as she herself was, and almost as beautiful.

I remembered how her hand felt in mine. Being young still, and not betrothed, I had not yet laid with a woman in my life. The effect of just holding her small hand in mine was almost overwhelming to me, and I realized that this White woman, this 'Elsie', was stealing my heart. Already, I felt myself wanting to be with her at all times.

So it was that I became concerned when she walked into a stand of trees and vanished from my sight. I was not worried that she was trying to leave. She could go nowhere on foot, and she left her bag of baubles at our campsite. Nevertheless, I became concerned that she might become lost, or encounter a cougar or bear. Picking up my spear, I followed her tracks through the trees.

Soon, I heard the sound of running water and I peered through the brush, looking for my new companion. It was then I saw her in the water. I felt a rush of excitement as I saw her finally free of her clothing. Her skin was white as milk and the curves of her body, or what of them I could see above the water, seemed the perfect image of what a woman should be. Her golden hair was bundled up high on her head, exposing her shoulders and a hint of her breasts.

I was overjoyed at seeing her so comfortable with me. Surely if she considered me a savage, would she invite me to see her in such a natural and defenseless state? To me, it seemed that she was beginning to accept that we were now together. I climbed up on a rock overlooking the river and I stripped of my skins as I prepared to join her. The water was cool and looked deep, so with a whoop of joy, I dove in not far from Elsie, hoping to surprise her and to join her in her bath.

I heard her scream in surprise just as I cut through the water. The cool river enveloped my body and I quickly swam toward Elsie, hoping to make her laugh. When I broke the surface though, she swam back, as if fearing my intentions.

I was shocked to see such fear in her eyes. I had only meant to share my joy, but once again, I must have misunderstood. Fortunately, when Elsie saw the look of joy on my face, she stopped her flight. We stared at each other for several heartbeats as we tried to understand what the other was thinking.

Finally, Elsie said, "You scared me just now, but you didn't mean to, did you? I thought you might mean me harm, but you're just playing with me, right?"

I did not understand, but when I smiled, her face too became filled with happiness. She playfully splashed at me and I splashed back, and soon we were both laughing as the joy of living overtook us.

We played and swam for a time but soon my attraction for her became too strong. She must have seen the desire in my eyes, but this time she did not run. Still, I could see she was frightened as I approached. How could I tell her I wanted her, not as a prize, but as my mate? My hand was shaking as I reached out and let my fingers travel over the beautiful lines of her face. Elsie seemed reluctant at first, but she steeled herself and then guided my hand over her shoulders and down to her breasts.

*

Even as a young girl, I had always envisioned who I'd share my heart with. I thought I'd marry a proper Frenchmen. One who'd be in a successful business, and who my father would approve of. Someone who would take care of me, so I could take care of him at home. When I married my American husband, I never felt the things I expected to feel. It was only then, in the water with Red Elk, that those things I always thought I should feel for my husband began to swell in my heart.

Having only known him a day, I thought it was impossible. Even though he saved my life, and hadn't hurt me or done what those other evil men were surely going to do to, it seemed impossible that I should be drawn to him so powerfully. There was just something about him that I found difficult to resist. It was in the softness of his eyes. I could tell he had more than passing interest in me.

When he jumped into the water and broke through the surface, I was scared and frightened it might be someone else. Someone who was going to hurt me. Even after I saw it was him, there was still a part of me that was fearful. I didn't know him, though the smile on his face melted my heart. He looked like a big kid, with his long, dark hair pooling around him and teeth so white set against his red skin. His chest was hard and chiseled. Seeing him dripping with water made me want to run my tongue over his flesh.

With his hands on my breasts, my heart was beating hard against my chest. I couldn't believe I was allowing this, but I couldn't make myself stop. I was feeling things for him that I never had with anyone before. I was free of any man and far from home. For the first time in my life, I could do what I saw fit. I knew then that Red Elk was stealing my heart, and the very idea of succumbing to those feelings was as terrifying as it was irresistible!

It was wrong, and maybe even a sin, but I felt a need to be touched and held that made me whimper in his arms. Everything I'd been brought up to believe told me to stop, to run from the wild man, but in that split second, I didn't care. I reached out and pulled him into me, our naked bodies pressing together with my mouth covering his.

My tongue sought comfort with his. He had no resistance and his hands moved down to my hips, squeezing them tightly and pushing his body into mine. He groaned hotly into our kiss and I did not need to know his language to understand he was as drawn to me as much as I was to him. I felt the growing stir low in my belly, a feeling so hungry it burned. I whimpered out, my tongue darting into his mouth as he did the same with mine.

Cupping my bottom, he lifted me as I wrapped my legs around his middle. He pressed against me hard and his hands pulled my hair down, releasing it from the knot I had it bundled in. With a feral groan, he broke our kiss and moved down to my neck, kissing with a desire that matched my own. It was then I felt the hardness of his manhood pressing against me. It felt hot and rampant and the idea that he was so close made me shiver in trepidation, I had never seen a man's organ before and it felt somehow threatening to me. In that moment, my want for him warred with my fear of something I'd never seen.

In that moment of conflict, I was able to shake my head clear. I couldn't go further with him. I may have been a widow, and no longer home in France, but I couldn't throw away all my beliefs. Sex between two people should be within the vows of marriage. But did any of that truly matter anymore?

It was enough to cause doubt, and I pulled away from Red Elk. I moved towards the bank where I left my clothing. Feeling tears welling up in my eyes, I gathered them up, not bothering to dress as I ran back towards our camp. Hot tears burned in my eyes as I returned to our fire.

Could I truly love him already? That and so many questions raced through my mind. Worse still, I couldn't ask him anything because we didn't speak the same language. Anger at the lack of communication filled me.

I wanted nothing more than to talk to him, to understand him. Burying my face into my makeshift pillow, I continued to cry. I was only left alone for a few minutes, when I heard a twig snap. Knowing Red Elk had followed, I felt horrible for leaving him like I did, but I couldn't even apologize to him. He must have thought I was crazy.

*

For a moment, my heart was light and sang like the wind as I held Elsie in my arms. I felt a hunger and a need to have her, and to be there for her. It was like I had been filled with a storm and it was carrying me away in its fury. Then, her eyes filled with doubt. I could see it was not fear of me, but a conflict in her heart that caused her to run.

It seems that all women are similar in some ways. White or red, they must feel a need to be reassured that they are not simply being used. Elsie had that doubt, but how could I explain? My heart ached and my spirit cried out as she fled, still naked toward the camp. I raised my eyes toward the sky, hoping for some sign as to how I could undo what I had done.

I did not follow as quickly as I might. I knew I could catch her and wrestle her into the soft grasses, but what then? She would only see me as the savage she once did. No, though my heart was heavy and sadness fell like a fog on my mind, I would not try to make her love me.

I was careful as I came up to her at the fire. She was beautiful as she lay in my bed skins. Her gaze told me again it was not anger she felt, and I lay next to her, pulling the skins over us both to try to comfort her in her worries. Elsie sighed and moved near until she was nestled in my arms. In that moment, I knew in my heart that I would love her until the end of my days.

We slept together that night, our bodies together in love if not as mates. I found a deep and satisfying joy in merely stroking her hip and she seemed more relaxed and comfortable with me than she ever had. I was sure that she would one day show me the affection I desired. But for that, I was prepared to wait.

This was much how we spent many nights as we traveled toward the forests of my people. During the day, we rode, pointing at rocks, clouds, or any of the small animals we saw. I would say their names in my tongue and she would repeat it and then speak their names in hers. Over time, we began to be able to speak in a strange mixture of our words that I am certain no other could have followed.

Still, Elsie, my beautiful White Dove as I began to think of her, gave me no reason to think she might want to share her love in the way women do with men. I was saddened by this. Perhaps it was because she missed her home. I began to fear she traveled with me only because she had no other choice.

I had chosen to save her life, and by the custom of my people, that made me responsible for her. I hoped I could fulfill this responsibility as her husband, but on that day, the day I saw the tracks, I realized that I might have to return her to the company of the Whites.

Elsie didn't see the marks their hooves left in the ground. I have been tracking my entire life though and I could see the deeper impressions left by the steel shoes the Whites put on their ponies. Without explaining this to her, I changed our direction to follow the marks left by the white men.

The tracks were fresh, and by the time the sun began to lower in the sky, I spotted the soldiers. Men like these had often shown violence and hatred for the people of the plains, but I trusted that they would be merciful and respect the safety of a lost women of their own. I held back, keeping out of sight so as not to give them cause to draw their weapons.

Elsie saw them too and I could see she was thinking about them, just as I was. My eyes were filled with tears and my heart hurt as if I had been pierced by a lance as I told her to go to her people. Elsie gazed at me and then turned toward the soldiers.

"Go to them," I told her as my tears ran hot down my cheeks. I was angry at the fate that had brought her to me but as much as it hurt, I wanted her to be happy. When she did not move, I raised my hand and pointed at the soldiers. "They are your people," I shouted with more sorrow than anger. "You should go to them! They will take care of you and keep you safe!"

I did not know if she understood. She sat on her pony, paralyzed as if she could not move. I feared that she believed I was tricking her, or would try to keep her captive, so I turned my pony and began riding away, toward the lands of my people.

To be continued...