All my children would be--" Hunter rolled his eyes. "Can you see me, surrounded by White Eyes?"
"Ah, that is the trouble. She is a White Eyes." Many Horses nodded and, in a teasing voice, said, "I don't blame you there. No man could be proud of a son with white blood. He'd be weak and cowardly, a shame to any who claimed him."
Hunter froze and glanced up. The white blood in his own veins was an unspoken truth between him and his father. Never before had Many Horses alluded to it.
Many Horses sniffed and rubbed the ash from his nose. "Of course, there are the rare exceptions. I suppose a man could raise a child of mixed blood and teach him to be one of the true People. It would take work, though." The stiffness eased from Hunter's shoulders. "Did I test your patience, my father?"
Many Horses seemed to ponder that question a moment. "I found myself short on patience the time you shot me in the thigh with your first bow and arrow. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been standing you."
Hunter laughed softly. "You weren't when I let fly with the arrow. If I remember, I turned around to ask you a question."
"Which I never did answer. I always thanked the Great Ones that you were only knee high. If you'd been much taller, your brothers and sister never would have been born." He sniffed again, then grinned. "Come to think of it, Warrior was even more dangerous with his first rifle. Remember the time he accidentally fired through my lodge and shot a hole in your mother's cooking pot? She was boiling rabbit. The water hit the fire and filled the place with so much smoke, I nearly choked to death before I got everyone outside to safety."
Hunter threw back his head and roared with laughter. "I remember you pulling that rabbit out of the pot and telling Warrior it was a perfect shot, right through the heart. Except, of course, that it was gutted. And would he practice on targets from then on?"
"Speaking of pits in plum pudding, do you remember your sister's first attempt? Your grandfather broke off his only remaining tooth trying to eat it."
"And swallowed tooth, pit and all, so he wouldn't embarrass her in front of Gray Horse, who had come to court her." Hunter placed a hand over his aching midriff and sighed. "It is good I came, my father. You have the gift. Already my heart is lighter.
"Ah, that is the trouble. She is a White Eyes." Many Horses nodded and, in a teasing voice, said, "I don't blame you there. No man could be proud of a son with white blood. He'd be weak and cowardly, a shame to any who claimed him."
Hunter froze and glanced up. The white blood in his own veins was an unspoken truth between him and his father. Never before had Many Horses alluded to it.
Many Horses sniffed and rubbed the ash from his nose. "Of course, there are the rare exceptions. I suppose a man could raise a child of mixed blood and teach him to be one of the true People. It would take work, though." The stiffness eased from Hunter's shoulders. "Did I test your patience, my father?"
Many Horses seemed to ponder that question a moment. "I found myself short on patience the time you shot me in the thigh with your first bow and arrow. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been standing you."
Hunter laughed softly. "You weren't when I let fly with the arrow. If I remember, I turned around to ask you a question."
"Which I never did answer. I always thanked the Great Ones that you were only knee high. If you'd been much taller, your brothers and sister never would have been born." He sniffed again, then grinned. "Come to think of it, Warrior was even more dangerous with his first rifle. Remember the time he accidentally fired through my lodge and shot a hole in your mother's cooking pot? She was boiling rabbit. The water hit the fire and filled the place with so much smoke, I nearly choked to death before I got everyone outside to safety."
Hunter threw back his head and roared with laughter. "I remember you pulling that rabbit out of the pot and telling Warrior it was a perfect shot, right through the heart. Except, of course, that it was gutted. And would he practice on targets from then on?"
"Speaking of pits in plum pudding, do you remember your sister's first attempt? Your grandfather broke off his only remaining tooth trying to eat it."
"And swallowed tooth, pit and all, so he wouldn't embarrass her in front of Gray Horse, who had come to court her." Hunter placed a hand over his aching midriff and sighed. "It is good I came, my father. You have the gift. Already my heart is lighter.
( Catherine Anderson )
[ Comanche Moon ]
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