"Sacagawea," he said. (He never called me Janey.) "You've taken good care of Scannon. You found food for him when food was scarce. You even saved his life. He thinks much more of you than he does of me. If you want him, young lady, he is yours."
"I want him, I want him, Captain Lewis. Can I have him now?"
"Now."
Scannon, thinking of food, followed me to the lodge. Charbonneau was sitting against a tree while Otter Woman stood over him and combed his beard.
"What's dog for?" he asked.
"Captain Lewis gave him to me."
"Shoshone woman, maybe I give you something too. With large stick on head, huh? That dog eats all the time."
Otter Woman turned and eyed Scannon. "He is a plump one. Maybe it's better to keep him for the pot."
"Maybe good idea, Otter Woman."
I slept in the canoe that night with Scannon. Before dawn I put Meeko on my back and went to the long house. I took a sack of pemmican, five cakes of blackberry bread, and some elk fat.
When the herdsman drove the horses down to the river, I followed him. I had to wait a while until he had eaten and was asleep. Then I took a horse and rode out of the village with Scannon at my heels.
As I rode I saw that the canoes were loaded and ready to leave. I caught a glimpse of Captain Clark. He stood on the shore. His red hair shone in the sun. I had not trusted myself to say farewell to him. Now it was too late.
I crossed my wrists and put them over my heart and pressed them together, one on the other. It was a sign of love.
The shortest trail to my people led toward the setting sun. It was shorter, three times shorter, than the way up the Missouri River and the Yellowstone. It was the quick trail the raiders had taken the time they captured Running Deer and me. The same trail Running Deer had taken when she left and went home.
There was a half moon. I rode hard along the river until the moon set and my guiding star shone through the trees. Scannon ran beside me.
In the morning we were on the trail at sunrise. The sky was deep blue and cloudless. Locusts sang in the high grass. The wild blooms of summer were everywhere. I picked a handful for Meeko.
He laughed and smelled them. One day when he was older I would tell him that the wild blooms were the footprints of little children, those who had gone away and had come back to gladden us. I would tell him many things that the Shoshone people knew.
Scott O'Dell, Streams to the River, River to the Sea
(Series: # )
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends