And, although the desire for revenge no longer burned deeply within him, he would still never forget. He looked forward to the day he could repay in full the debt he owed these three men. And, once that day arrived and the debt was fully repaid, he would be gone from here.
Looking forward, he saw Eagle Heart, Chases-the-enemy and Gray Falcon had formed a line ahead of him. Strikes Fast joined them. Over these past five snows, he had nurtured an unusual friendship with these three men; he hunted with them, took his meals with them and joined them in sharing the meat from their hunts with all the people. All three men had become his friends in a camp where everyone else was an enemy to him.
Still looking forward, Strikes Fast now couldn't believe what he was seeing. This couldn't be possible. Startled, he frowned and looked away. Yet, he could not pretend that he hadn't seen what was clearly being paraded in front of him: ahead of him and his friends was the pale-faced medicine painter, along with his paints, his boards, his easeland his woman.
His woman. The man was bringing a woman on a buffalo hunt? Was the man insane? Did he not know the danger? Even a man fully accustomed to the hunt could lose his life if he or his pony were not attentive enough to the running of and bringing down the buffalo.
Did the white man not realize the danger he was putting his woman in? This wasn't right. Strikes Fast had to speak up and share his thoughts with his friends, if only to ensure the safety of the woman.
Before mounting his pony, Strikes Fast turned to his right where Gray Falcon stood holding the reins of his own black-spotted Appaloosa. Strikes Fast asked his friend in sign, "Why are they coming with us?" He pointed at the painter. "Is the man so lacking in good sense that he does not realize the danger he brings to his woman?"
Gray Falcon answered in the same manner of "speaking," and he signed, "He insists he cannot do his work well unless she is near him. And, he is determined to paint a picture of a buffalo hunt."
Strikes Fast shook his head, then signed, "And so, he brings her into danger because he must draw a good sketch?"
"Áa,"said Gray Falcon. "He does not believe us when we have told him the buffalo are dangerous, and, since she has agreed to accompany him, I do not interfere between them. But, I have spoken about my fears to him."
"Then, he is an evildoer, as well as stupid," signed Strikes Fast.
"This may well be so."
Strikes Fast set his lips together so firmly, it looked as though his effort had formed his mouth into a straight line. But, he otherwise remained silent. Perhaps the white man was right and no harm would come to his beautiful wife. But, big and awkward though the buffalo might be, a thousand of them could change course quickly and for no reason at all. A man had to know this and be prepared for it. Was he? Was she?
Deciding to keep an eye cocked in their direction, he pushed himself up onto his seat atop his buffalo pony and deliberately took a position toward the rear of their party, following along behind Chief Chases-the-enemy, Eagle Heart and Gray Falcon, as well as the medicine painter and his woman.
He didn't like this; he didn't like it at all.
****
Approaching the buffalo from behind, Strikes Fast singled out the buffalo he wished to kill and, dropping the pony's halter rope, let his fast running pony bring him in close to the huge beast, separating it from the throng of the rest. Because he and his horse were as one, his well-trained pony knew by instinct which buffalo was being targeted.
Raising his bow with an arrow firmly set against the sinew string, Strikes Fast pulled back and let the arrow go, his aim exact, it going deeply into the heart of the animal. Immediately, his horse veered off, running toward the side and away from danger.
Again Strikes Fast singled out another buffalo, bringing his pony in close for the kill. Another arrow flew from his bow, the strength of his arm sending the arrow into the heart of the beast, and, once again, his pony veered away from the throng. And so it went, on and on, until at last he had shot all five of the arrows he had carried in his hand.
Strikes Fast looked outward, watching the herd disappear in the distance, the Pikuni warriors still in pursuit. All were soon gone from view, leaving behind little more than a cloud of dust. Turning his pony back in the direction from which he'd come, he gazed off into the distance and saw something that so astonished him, he couldn't move: the white man sat atop his own mount and was circling a huge enraged buffalo bull.
Worse, the man was not trying to kill the bull, but was instead making marks on the white man's paper, the paper lying atop a wooden slab held with the painter's hands out in front of him. So engrossed was the white man with the old buffalo bull, he was not alert to the dangerous female cow who had separated herself from the rest of the herd. And, now that animal was quickly approaching the easiest target in sight: the pretty white woman.
The woman herself didn't seem to notice the beast until, glancing over her shoulder, she at last beheld the animal already in a furious run toward her. At once, she screamed and tried desperately to get out of the way, but it was not to be. She couldn't easily control her horse, and, as it was not a trained buffalo pony, it was not running away.
Whipping his carefully trained buffalo pony into a fast and desperate run, Strikes Fast tried to come upon the buffalo cow for the kill, but he could not get near the animal. Instinctively, the dangerous buffalo cow knew what he planned, and she ducked out of the way, her path still unerringly plotted toward the white woman.
Leaning forward, he yelled to his pony, "Run to the girl!" Although he disliked having to use his whip on his treasured mount, he did so now. Luckily, his pony knew exactly what to do, and, speeding toward the girl, the horse came in close to her, allowing Strikes Fast to reach out and lift her off her mount.
His own pony was already veering away from the danger when Strikes Fast settled the woman before him. Her horse, aware now of the danger and with a lighter load, picked up its speed, and Strikes Fast saw it run as fast as the wind, outdistancing the infuriated buffalo cow.
Keeping his arm around the shivering woman, who was now seated sidesaddle in front of him, Strikes Fast turned his pony around and sped back in the direction from which he had come. In doing so, he ignored all five of the buffalo kills he'd made this day.
His intention was to take her back to the safety of the Pikuni camp, but the camp was distant and his pony was already showing distress from all its exertion this day. Picking up his pony's halter, he instead directed the animal toward a grassy hill that rose up close by to them. Quickly,Kalée Lichíie, Runaway Horse, climbed up to the top of the mound, and there he paused.
Strikes Fast dismounted immediately and reached up to help the woman slide to the ground. But, although she dismounted well enough, she collapsed onto the grassy earth and didn't rise up. Stepping toward her, he picked her up and carried her in his arms as his pony followed him to a patch of luscious grass.
Turning his favorite mount loose for the moment, he set the woman on the ground, squatted down in front of her, and then signed, "Are you hurt?"
She didn't look at him. Instead, she shook her head and raised her shoulders. She murmured the words, "I don't understand you." But, he had no way of knowing what she'd said.
He asked the same question in Blackfeet, but when she indicated she still couldn't comprehend him, he resorted to using exaggerated hand gestures to communicate what he intended doing: he needed to check over her body to look for injuries, although he thought he had been quick enough to rescue her before any damage had been done to her. He continued to speak in the magnified motions.
