Chapter 17

The Oglala peered through the gloom of the little brush shelter at my older nephew and confirmed Plenty Horses’ anointment of Ides. “Do you suppose Blue Eyes here will grow up to have medicine like you do?” Without waiting for an answer, he addressed the boy. “Do you speak Lakota?”

“Hau, Thunkashila,” Ides politely addressed the older man as Grandfather.

“Wash-te.Good,” Iron Head said.

“I do, too,” Gabe said in English.

“Then your uncle is raising you well.”

Conversation turned to the difficult conditions on the reservations. The entire countryside had suffered a series of harsh winters, dry summers, prairie fires, grasshopper hordes and poor crops. None of which made life easier on the tribesmen. Before we left to go plunge into the cool waters of Turtle Crick to wash away the purifying sweat raised by the heated stones, I gave the chief my price for the cattle.