I feel Pawnee. I still thought in English. I made an effort to shut off the flow of English to my brain. I can't stop thinking in English.

Running Horse wanted me to speak English to him. He asked what words meant. He spoke a mixture of Pawnee and English, and we all used signs to communicate without using words. I suppose English was spoken as much as it was, because it's what I resorted to when I was frustrated by not being able to find the Pawnee words for things.

When I rattled off a string of English words that told him what I meant, his reaction was predictable.

"What men. Too many word."

I'd giggle and kiss him.

He'd forget what we were talking about and so did I.

I'd never felt that way about anyone before. We spoke a language all our own. A kiss said it all, and it never failed to get a smile from Running Horse.

I called our mixture of Pawnee, English, and signs Pawnee shorthand. I knew I'd help create it.

I hadn't learned Pawnee shorthand in the beginning. I understood what was being said in Pawnee, but some words didn't fit my mouth, and that's when I used English. I suppose it was a compliment that my people wanted me to understand them and that's why they made the extra effort.

I wanted to speak Pawnee all the time, but I couldn't do it, which meant I became frustrated by my failure.

It wasn't like English was an easy language to understand. When you have a rule that says, 'It's always like this, except when it isn't,' you end up scratching your head.

What does that even mean?

Lone Wolf and Dark Horse didn't speak English. They both understood every word I said. They were proud men. They refused to speak the language of a people who intended to remove them and people like them from the earth. Because they understood English, they didn't need to employ an English speaking Pawnee for translations. Because Running Horse didn't understand English well, they'd been sent the son of Proud Eagle to be able to translate for him.

It took a while for me to figure it out, and Lone Wolf spoke of it to me before going on his longest journey.

"Sit Running Horse's right. Not let white men trick him."

I sat at Running Horse's right. Few white men fool him.

Medicine Woman knew more about English than I did. As a girl, her village was near Fort Riley. She went to the school at the fort for several years. There was a close relationship between the cavalry and their Pawnee scouts. Being helpful meant treating them fairly, but during an Indian uprising, the village was moved out of reach. Medicine Woman was the village doctor and shaman. After Chief Lone Wolf, she was revered for her understanding of the many plants and herbs that healed most ills. Her knowledge went well beyond treating illness. Like Lone Wolf, she saw things that were ahead of us.

Women had a more important role in a Pawnee village. Men were the hunters and defenders, much of the running of the village fell into the hands of its women.

Always in the village, women took care of problems. I stayed in Medicine Woman's lodge long enough to see how the village worked. Medicine Woman's ideas were sought before decisions were made.

I understood Pawnee far better than I spoke it. Pawnee was spoken around me at all times. When being interviewed by Lone Wolf, he understood when I spoke English, and I understood his Pawnee. While I was frustrated that I couldn't speak as well as I wanted, Lone Wolf never criticized my poor skill with Pawnee.

Running Horse was a different kind of chief. He was young and curious and wanted to see everything for himself. He didn't delegate responsibility, but as time passed, he'd learn the things he did best, and he'd assign things to others with things he wasn't good at.

While it was clear I brought my value with me, the main question when it came to English, "What mean?"

I didn't make it known, but when English was spoken, I knew what most of the words meant, but when white men spoke, I could never be sure what was behind the words they used. They adapted treaties and agreements to the Indian concepts.

When I say, "As long as the grass grows and the river flows," I know the meaning of all the words, but white men meant, "For as long as the grass grows and the water flows, until next time, when the grass won't grow as green and the river might run dry.

I explained the words. I couldn't explain the men speaking them. There was no one who didn't see what was coming by this time. The place indigenous people occupied were shrinking at an alarming rate. There was coming a time when the people who occupied this land since the dawn of time, wouldn't be allowed to roam free.

The Pawnee in my village never breathed air that wasn't free. In my lifetime, I was sure it would end. Had I been more white than Pawnee, I'd have thrown in with the people who were going to win. Being Pawnee was what I was. I looked like a white boy. I wasn't one. When the migration ended, I'd stand with the Pawnee.

I lacked the ability to see what was ahead, but I saw this. When it was time to make the peace, I hoped to be on Running Horse's right. When he asked, "What mean?" I would tell him to the best of my ability. I didn't think they intended to kill us all, but they'd kill enough to be able to easily control the Indians that were left. If they decided to destroy us, we'd all be dead Indians.

Had I known what was coming, I'd have told Running Horse, "Join with all indigenous people and make a stand. You don't want to be alive and in the hands of white people. As cruel as I knew they could be, I couldn't possibly see the total disregard for us as people.

It's a long story and not always pleasant. Seeing it from the far side of our history gives me perfect vision. I saw what was coming, and I've seen what came to pass. At this moment in time, our concern was for the water our village depended upon.

While there were no signs the water was running out, Running Horse used markers to mark the level of the water on the day markers were put in place. When it began to recede, he'd see it.

We sat astride our horses, looking back at the flat lands behind us. We'd reach the mountain, and we'd take our time climbing. Horses were sure footed, until they weren't. We'd go slow to keep them safe.

It was slow going, while the horses did all the work. The uneven ground made it difficult on them. Negotiating narrow passages meant getting off our horses and leading them over difficult terrain.

It wasn't like we didn't know every inch of the ground we covered, but subtle changes could produce dangerous footing. We didn't want our horses sliding back down the mountain. The climb wore out the horses and the men too. We had to stay on our toes. Each time we got to a flat spot, we stopped to let the horses rest. Stopping was the best part. I got to hold Running Horse.

We were tired. Not too tired to appreciate being able to hold each other.

Steam was rising from our mouths after we were halfway to the top. The camp we'd use was near the top. It got colder as we went. I wasn't a big fan of freezing. Running Horse seemed oblivious to cold.

Deerskin was warm when made into clothing, Deer were always out in the cold. I never heard one complain, but when I got close enough to hear what one said, I just kilt him and he wasn't talking.

Cold was cold. For October, it was about normal. When on horseback it took less than a day to get on top. Once in camp, we cleaned it up to live in for two or three days. We wouldn't change camps on the abbreviated hunt. The one we used was centrally located, and we had several spots where we had good luck getting deer.

Before we got deer, Running Horse sat first, leaning his back up against a tree trunk, and I sat down and leaned against his chest. Until game showed up, that's how we did it. It's why these hunts we took alone were worth looking forward to.

We only had one crisis situation in sight. Heavy fall rains eliminated any talk of making the move. I'd watched the water in the pond rise above the markers Running Horse put down. We weren't ready to move yet.

We were ready to get off alone, and that's what we did.

As a new chief, Running Horse organized things his way. There had been no complaints. The village was at peace with us or without us.

The deer weren't so lucky, once we came to hunt.

On the first night, Running Horse went to gather wood for the fire he built right away, and I climbed on some rocks just out of sight of our camp. My bow and arrow were ready for anything that happened by. That fire needed some fresh meat to make it perfect.

We carried dried meat with us to eat if hunting didn't go well, but we usually carried some of the dried meat back with us, along with a sled of venison which would allow for feasting, because there would be the fall hunt in another month and there's be enough venison to last until the spring hunt.

The rabbit was plump and he showed up not far away. He'd hopped his last, and I cleaned him and took him back to the fire with me. There I fashioned some branches into sticks I put the rabbit on.

"Rabbit taste good," Running Horse told me.

He poked at the fire with a stick he cut for that purpose.

It was a good meal, and after the climb, we were tired. After hobbling the horses, we slipped into buffalo robes we used for a bed.

It was surprising how soon dawn came. I was snuggled up against my man, and then it was getting light, and he was getting up, poking at the fire until flames leaped at the sky.

Doing this without the benefit of his deerskin made me shiver. I wasn't so cold that I didn't slip out of bed and stand behind him to hold him in my empty arms. In this way he was warmed by the fire and by me, and he didn't miss his clothes. I, on the other hand, was literally freezing my ass off, while the front of me was toasty warm.

We ate warmed rabbit and we got dressed, letting the fire burn when we headed even higher on the mountain. Where we decided to hunt, the sun shined through by mid morning, and where we sat gave us a view of a spot where big game came to drink.

I'd like to say we were devoted hunters who didn't take their eyes off of where they were most likely to see game. We were devoted, but our lips were often cold, and we knew what would warm them up. Our lips weren't the only thing that got warm, but we did keep one eye on the watering hole while we kissed.

What was the point of hunting alone if we weren't going to do what we liked doing, when we were alone, hunting or not. We had our moments, but we were on our toes if something came into view. We were proof that Pawnee warriors could do two things at once.

Some days I woke when he stood to let loose an arrow. I don't think Running Horse ever slept. Nothing escaped him, and I didn't need to look to see if he hit what he was shooting at. He did not miss.

If there were a pair of animals, and I was sleeping, he'd shake my shoulder easily. When I felt his hand on my shoulder, I was already standing, trying to clear my eyes to be ready to fire. As often as not, if we didn't both hit the same animal, we each shot one.

The antelope was a nice change, but it wasn't big enough to account for the meat we wanted to take back with us. We cut a big roast and let the rest out to freeze over night.

We ate as we worked our way to a different hunting spot. Tomorrow we'd want to head home, and that meant we needed to get at least one buck, and hopefully two today. We would not sleep or worry about cold lips. Today we would be serious hunters.

The spot we picked was one where we never failed to get a buck. It had been sunny, and it was warmer, even if it was still freezing. It would be warmer on the flat lands, so we'd need to be sure the meat was frozed before we started back.

It was afternoon, we'd eaten some cold rabbit, and settled in to wait, when three bucks came in a line to stop and drink. One buck stood watch, while two drank, and then the third drank, while the two biggest bucks stood, ears twitching, while both of us stood with care.

Running Horse would take the buck on his side, and I took the one on mine. We let our arrows fly. Running Horse's buck's legs folded up under him. I didn't have as good a shot because of how my buck stood, and he took a step back, looking at the other dear fall, and he took off into the brush.

"I'll need to chase mine," I said.

"Good hit. No go far."

When I dragged mine back to the clearing, Running Horse already had his cleaned and skinned. He was ready to quarter it, and once he did, he helped me with mine. With the antelope, it amounted to a good amount of meat if not one of our bigger sled's full.

The feasting would soon begin once we reached the village.

Our first stop was at the pond where we went swimming. Running Horse's markers were still under water. Medicine Woman told us it rained every day but one, while we were gone. No one talked about our trip to find the location where the new village would go.

Running Horse was satisfied that for another year, we'd be fine here. We knew that one day the water would start getting lower, but for the time being, that hadn't happened. No one wanted to move and we'd put it off for as long as possible.

Tall Elk went around the village complaining that there was no shortage of water and there was no reason there would be. Running Horse didn't correct him. Tall Elk made up his mind to go against any move. Once the signs told him it was time to move, Running Horse would organize the move and the disagreeable Indian could do what he wanted to do.

Lone Wolf told Running Horse what he'd see when it was time to move, and he didn't say when that would be. The signs would be there when they were there, and we'd have three full moons to move.

Once the first signs were in motion, it would be time to pack what was going with us and allow a month to get to the place where the new village was to go.

It wasn't complicated and Medicine Woman had spoken up about what was to come. Because there was no water shortage, we put off the trip Lone Wolf told us to make. No one seemed worried that the water would stop one day, and we'd be in bad shape.

I didn't exactly move out of Medicine Woman's lodge. As I walked hand and hand with Running Horse after the evening meal, we liked to talk and enjoy being together. One evening, I went into Lone Wolf's lodge with him. It was always the lodge where Running Horse lived, but it was also the lodge of the chief.

It was still the lodge of the chief, but it was Chief Running Horse. He wanted me to stay. One thing led to another and I stayed for two nights in a row, and then it was three in a row, and one day I didn't go back to Medicine Woman's lodge. It wasn't like I moved across the country, I was a short walk away. I hated being separated from Running Horse, and so we were living together shortly after Lone Wolf had gone on his final journey.

My journey seemed complete once I began living with the man I loved. I was exactly where I wanted to be. Running Horse's lodge seemed to be where I was going all along. When I left the cabin in the valley where the river runs, I had no idea where I'd end up.

The journey was taken because I was searching for myself. I thought getting a griz would reveal what was residing in my depths. I thought I was on a journey into manhood. I couldn't have dreamed of how much more complicated my journey had become. The world may not have been any more complex, but I became aware of the complexity.

Being Pawnee answered many questions for me. I became aware of the world my father once knew. He left this world, turned away from being Pawnee. What I was looking for revealed itself once I turned toward the world my father left.

My whiteness made me feel awkward at a time when my father's darkness drew the taunts of white men. I didn't know what accounted for us changing places in such an odd change of circumstances.

I didn't want to see my father who had become a white man, but I wanted to know my father as Pawnee. It was a futile response to a request from the man I loved, who needed to see my father. I had no idea of what I was getting myself into when I went to the mountain. I didn't have any idea what I was getting myself into by going home.

We knew we needed to move, but we didn't know what we were getting ourselves into in our new home. The dynamics present in the village I came to all those years ago is going to be nothing like the dynamics present in our new home. What would that be like?

The regular fall hunt came about a month after we went on our two man hunting trip. It wasn't as easy to have seven additional men with us. The hunt revolved around Chief Running Horse who kept us moving toward the goal of taking back a thousand pounds of venison.

There were guys who always hunted with one or two other guys. It was about our comfort zone. While Lit'l Fox liked hunting with Running Horse and me, he knew not to go out with us every time we went on the hunt. The first day, he'd come with us, and we'd go to a spot where the three of us had good luck. After that, he'd go out with Young Antelope, who he got on with well.

We'd brought a buck in on day one, and there were antelope, rabbits, and a variety of medium size mammals. It was while hunting alone that we sat holding hands, watching the watering spot a few dozen yards away. While we sat up against the trees, there was nothing blocking our view out under the low hanging braches.

As a doe moved into the clearing straight ahead, I stood with my bow, and considered the shot. I felt Running Horse's hand on my arm, and when I looked down at him to see why he was doing, he nodded with his head as two fawn came once the doe stood waiting.

I sat down and allowed mama and kids to drink. If you killed a doe her babies might not survive. The fawn would grow into bucks in a couple of years, and one of them might end up on one or our sleds.

The hunting went well and we went home with two sleds full. It was cold enough on the bottom when we returned to the village, there was little chance the meat would spoil if we went too slowly.

There was the usual feasting, but people took the meat cooked on the open fires back to their lodge to eat. The cold set in early that winter, and we settled in to endure the coldest months. That didn't mean we weren't out and about to do what needed doing each day. We simply wasted no time getting it done.

There was snow on the ground from the time we returned from the hunt, until late in January when Running Horse and I would take our early hunting trip. We'd already consulted Medicine Woman, and she was in favor of making our exploration to the new village sooner than later. While we were enjoying heavy rains, she knew from experience, you might get two or three good rainy seasons in a row before you got a few dry seasons to balance things out.

Running Horse and I talked about making our early hunt to get away from the village a while, and then we'd go on the spring hunting trip with half the warriors. Once back from that trip, and certain that there was plenty of meat to last us for a while, we'd go to the place where Lone Wolf said the new village would go.

This was going to take us all the way to the river when we went, and I could stand on the far bank, looking across to where I was raised. It still bothered me, because I didn't know what I felt. I did try to hide my uncertainty from Running Horse. He knew I was concerned.

"It work out," he told me.

"What?"

"It," he said, smiling that knowing little smile of his.

I did love him more than I loved life itself.

Sitting on that mountain, waiting for game. It's what our people had been doing for ten thousand years. Maybe not the Pawnee, but the people who came before there were Pawnee were doing this. They may have sat on this very spot, waiting for game to come.

The thought that followed wasn't a good one. We may well be the last Pawnee to hunt this mountain. Our way of life conflicted with the way of life of the people who wanted this mountain, the valley, and every speck of land between here and there.

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. It didn't bother me any longer, but I knew the truth. I knew it better than Running Horse or Lit'l Fox. Maybe I didn't know as much as Medicine Woman, but she knew what I knew, but she knew she wasn't going to live long enough to see the ending. Her generation would die off, and our generation would see it all taken from us.

"Stop it," Running Horse said.

"Can't help it."

"It is as it shall be," he predicted.

It is a dying way of life. The white men were coming, and coming, and coming, until there would be no Pawnee, no Shoshone, no Lakota, no Ogalala. Like the buffalo, white men will keep on killing, until we are but a distant memory no one has any longer, no one will know we were once here.

They were unable to set aside one little corner of a state and say, "For as long as the grass grows and the rivers flow, this will belong to those people who gave up their land so we could bring progress here."

The greed ran too deep.

As go the buffalo, so will go the Pawnee.

I read where they kept animals in a place for people to look at. They'll put two buffalo there once they're done killing them. A man will explain, "These are buffalo. They once covered the plains. The herds were vast. When a herd moved, it could take days for one herd to pass a place where people waited to cross. There were enough buffalo to feed everyone in the country for a hundred years. The Indians ate buffalo for thousands of years. To starve the Indians, we wiped out the buffalo in a few dozen years. There Is nothing man can't do, once he sets his mind to it."

Maybe the last Pawnee with be put somewhere to be looked at.

It's the white man's disease. There are white men and savages. There are the civilized and the barbarians. The ones who would kill us all were anything but civilized. The barbarians are going to win. The Cherokee, Shoshone, Comanche, Crete civilizations will be no more. The barbarians will kill us all.

"Me here Tall Willow. Where you?"

"Thinking, Running Horse."

"You cry. Why? Stop think."

"Me stop."

I kissed his cheek and wiped my eyes.


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