Chapter 4

Five Horses’ life continued its spiral of change after the birth of Running Buck. As the wife of White Eagle she held a position of respect and authority in the village social system, retaining it even after his death.
By keeping Running Buck, she had gone against the Kiowa’s established code of conduct and her position in Kiowa society changed.

Friends once close to her now kept their distance, including her in their conversations rarely and never in their activities. Five Horses did not understand how a small child could have so much influence over people’s
actions and thoughts. She looked at her son and saw a beautiful innocent child. The Kiowa saw the same child as an enemy capable of destroying their culture. The isolation imposed upon her was hard to accept but in the choice between appeasing her people or loving her son, Five Horses gladly chose the latter.

It would have been common practice, after a suitable period of mourning, for the elders of the village to arrange a marriage for Five Horses. Because of her white child, none of the braves in the village would have her. That was fine with her. Life would have been easier for Five Horses and her sons if she had a new husband to provide for them, but she did not wish to remarry. She would not wed out of necessity and knew she could never love another man. White Eagle held her heart and always would, in this world as well as the next.

Red Bear, forced prematurely into manhood by the death of his father, quickly became a skilled hunter supplying his family with deer meat and hides. Five Horses, with Running Buck cradled on her back, gathered herbs, fruit and nuts from the land around the village, always mindful of venturing too far by herself. At first she was afraid to gather food alone, remembering earlier tragic consequences, but she refused to let the past control her. Her children needed her to be strong. Between mother and son the family was fed and clothed. Five Horses held her head high as she walked through the village determined to show that they needed no help.

With Red Bear holding his small hands, Running Buck learned to walk, then, living up to his name, began to run. Five Horses kept a watchful eye as Running Buck toddled through the village. The little boy could not
understand the animosity in the eyes of those watching him, but his mother did.

Black Water Woman no longer appeared to be a threat to Running Buck’s safety. Her anger seemed to have eaten away at her mind and she spent each day in her own world, talking to people who weren’t there. Five Horses felt pity for her now. Her actions had been driven by the intense grief of losing a child. Although Five Horses could not bring herself to forgive Black Water Woman she no longer hated her. Grief was a powerful thing.

As Running Buck grew older it became more difficult to keep constant watch of his whereabouts. Five Horses worried there were others waiting for the opportunity to rid the village of its enemy. Red Bear thought his mother was very over protective by insisting Running Buck never be out of their sight, but he complied with her wishes and allowed his little brother to tag along after him. Running Buck adored his older brother and soon became his shadow, following Red Bear wherever and whenever possible.

Though the age difference was great, Red Bear began to actually enjoy the youngster’s company. He had often wished for a brother and now seemed to be making up for lost time. Together they would ride for hours across the open prairie on Red Bear’s horse. With his brother’s arms protectively wrapped around him, Running Buck sat astride the animal, smiling broadly as his outstretched arms tried to capture the wind as they raced through the tall grass, their laughter echoing across the prairie.

There were times that Running Buck could not accompany Red Bear and he would try to play with the other children of his age in the village. The children, still young enough to have not learned the prejudice of their
parents, were more than willing to play. But as soon as their mothers saw their companion, the children were quickly lead away leaving a bewildered Running Buck wondering why his playmates had left.

The boy would return to his teepee, his head bowed in disappointment, to wait for his brother’s return. At the first sight of his hero, Running Buck would run across the village and throw himself into his brother’s arms. All disappointment disappeared as Red Bear picked him up and raised the boy high into the air.

Five Horses sat across from her sons in their teepee watching Running Buck’s dark eyes shine with adoration as he listened to Red Bear tell stories of the deer and buffalo hunts of the summer. As her sons talked, Five Horses’ mind began to wander. After almost six years she stilled missed White Eagle terribly but the memory of his death wasn’t as painful now. They had shared a great love in their short time together and Five Horses found comfort in that. Her life had not turned out at all as she expected and she wondered
what her life would have been had she not wandered to the far side of the lake that afternoon years ago. White Eagle would not have sought revenge against the white man and would be here with her. But Running Buck would not. She loved them both deeply, it wasn’t fair to be allowed only one or the other in her life.

Brushing an unwanted tear from her eye, Five Horses refused to dwell on things that could not be changed. The sound of laughter bringing her back to the present, Five Horses watched her sons as their story telling turned into a mock battle. Red Bear always let his little brother win but retaliated by tickling Running Buck until the boy squealed with laughter. Five Horses smiled at her son, enjoying the sound, for she knew his laughter would not come as easily in the years ahead.

Six Years Later

“Let me past, Raven Wing,” Running Buck demanded of the older boy blocking his path.

The three older boys who stopped Running Buck began to circle slowly around him, blocking his exit. Running Buck had been gathering firewood for his mother and was on his way back to their teepee when the boys decided to have some fun at his expense. This was nothing new. While most of the tribe tended to keep their distance from the boy, these three delighted in doing everything possible to make Running Buck’s life miserable. As children of the highest class in Kiowa society, they felt it their right to degrade those of lesser classes. Running Buck, as a half-breed, held the lowest class possible and to the other boys, was fair game.

“I said let me past!” again demanded Running Buck.

“Did you say something, White Face?” asked Raven Wing tilting his head to the side with an inquisitive expression on his face. Clearly the leader of the three, he continued, “I think the white boy said something to us, my friends,”

Dark Feather and Gray Wolf chuckled at their companion’s comments and continued to circle around a fuming Running Buck. He knew his anger would have no effect on the older three. The confrontations were always the same. The boys would taunt him mercilessly with their insults and then practice their fighting skills on him, leaving him with a bloody nose or black eye. Once his finger had even been broken when Dark Feather stomped on his hand as Running Buck tried to push himself off the ground.

Red Bear, as a dutiful older brother, had taught Running Buck to defend himself. Even at a young age the boy was skillful and could probably have held his own with any one of the three older boys, but they never came at him only one at a time.

“You do not have the right to speak to us, half-breed,” spat Raven Wing. “Get on your knees and apologize.”

A glance to either side confirmed there was no escape from his three tormentors. Running Buck held his head high already knowing the outcome of the fight but refusing to be defeated easily. Glaring into the eyes of Raven Wing he squared his shoulders readying himself for the onslaught of insults to come.

“Get your filthy, white eyes off me, White Face!” demanded the older boy as the three began to close in around Running Buck.

“I look where I want,” replied Running Buck in a steady voice his eyes never straying from Raven Wing. His heart was pounding inside his chest but Running Buck knew he could not show fear. That is what the boys wanted most.

His eyes squinting with the intensity of his hatred Raven Wing leaned forward into Running Buck’s face. “You do not speak to me! You do not look at me! You do not have the right to walk on the same ground as me! You are nothing! You were a mistake, White Face!”

Running Buck continued to hold his head high through the force of the insults. He had heard them before, but it still hurt. He knew from experience the insults would continue for a while longer, then they would
beat him and leave him bleeding in the dirt as they continued in their carefree lives of privilege.

Gray Wolf, not wanting to be outdone by his companions, entered the attack with a new insult. “White Face, I don’t think your mother was raped. I think she laid down and gave it to the white man!”

Running Buck’s head snapped around to face Gray Wolf, an intense fury building inside him. Insulting him was one thing but to say such a thing about Five Horses was intolerable. He dropped the load of firewood in his arms and lunged forward at the older boy knocking Gray Wolf backwards. Landing on top of him, Running Buck began to avenge the attack on his mother’s dignity with well placed blows to Gray Wolf’s head and chest.

His sudden outburst of hostility surprised the older boys, allowing him to vent his anger on Gray Wolf’s nose before he was roughly pulled off by Raven Wing and Dark Feather. Raven Wing grabbed Running Buck’s wildly swinging arms and pulled them behind his back while the boy struggled to break free.

Gray Wolf rose to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. “You should not have done that, White Face,” he said, his voice low, seething with anger for the half-breed boy who had just humiliated him in front of his friends.

As if instructed by an unheard signal, the three older boys converged upon Running Buck at the same time, their fists connecting with his face and chest. Running Buck tried desperately to stay on his feet but the onslaught was too much and he dropped to his knees in the midst of his attackers. Sensing victory, the three decreased the intensity of their battle and stepped back, only Dark Feather remained close to the boy, holding Running Buck’s arms behind his back.

Running Buck held his head low, his eyes downcast in anger and humiliation, blood beginning to pour freely from his nose and mouth. "Some day," he promised himself. "Some day I will win."

“Apologize to us you half breed, white faced bastard! Apologize for being born!” demanded Raven Wing.

Raising his head slowly to meet the gaze of his enemy, blood streaming down his face, Running Buck calmly replied, “No.”

Infuriated by Running Buck’s defiance Raven Wing abruptly brought his knee up under Running Buck’s chin, the force of the blow sharply snapping his head backward. In an instant, the three bullies were on him again, pinning Running Buck to the ground under their weight.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Raven Wing taunted, “My father said that whites have short hair. I think White Face should have short hair.”

Dark Feather and Gray Wolf, trying to catch their breath, nodded heads in agreement and laughed at their friend’s idea.

Running Buck struggled with all his might to free himself but knew it was no use. Raven Wing sat astride his back while Gray Wolf and Dark Feather held the boy’s arms and legs tightly against the ground. Raven Wing grabbed the hunting knife from the sheath on Gray Wolf’s belt, twisted Running Buck’s long hair into a tight coil and began to cut into the dark mass wound together at the base of Running Buck’s neck.

When the act was finished the three jumped to their feet, Raven Wing proudly holding up the bundle of hair for his friends to see. Together they danced victoriously around a degraded Running Buck, emitting war cries and displaying the hair as if it was a scalp taken in battle.

Running Buck had endured countless attacks of cruelty from these three as well as some from others in the village but nothing had assaulted his dignity this badly. The Kiowa took extreme pride in their hair. To have
his cut off in such a manner was the ultimate form of degradation.

Running Buck remained motionless on the ground, his eyes closed tightly trying to will the attackers away. Satisfied with their victory, the three boys turned to leave. Gray Wolf, needing to exhibit his superiority to the younger boy, stopped long enough to place his foot on Running Buck’s face and drive it further into the ground, mixing dirt with blood.

“Remember this, White Face. Next time we take your scalp, too.”

Five Horses waited for Running Buck to bring the firewood and knew when he did not return promptly something was wrong. Running Buck was an obedient boy and would not keep her waiting. There had been trouble, again. The scattered firewood and signs of a scuffle confirmed her suspicions.

She knew where to find him. As many times before after a fight, he retreated to a secluded area amidst a grove of trees not far from the village. A small clearing was hidden behind a dense growth of trees and brush. Here Running Buck would go to nurse his wounds and try to regain his pride.

Five Horses entered the clearing and found her bruised and battered son leaning against the gnarled trunk of a cedar tree, his face buried in his hands. Sensing her presence he looked up at his mother, wiping an unwanted tear from his eye. Kiowa warriors did not cry. But then Kiowa warriors had long hair.

Five Horses’ heart broke for her son as he raised his head and she saw the length of his hair. Sighing heavily, she sank to the damp ground before her son and pulled him to her gently caressing his shorn head.

Running Buck allowed his mother to comfort him as he leaned his forehead against her shoulder. “I hate them!” he began. “I hate all of them! I do nothing to them and still they treat me like this! Animals are treated better than this! I try to be one of them! All I have ever wanted was to be Kiowa!”

Five Horses knew the pain in her son’s heart. He did try hard. There were many rules in Kiowa society and Running Buck was careful to obey them. He rose early in the morning so the sun would not think he was a lazy child. He spoke with respect to his mother and would show the same respect to other adults in the village if he ever got the chance. He learned the legends of the Kiowa and honored the spirits, praying to them every day. Running Buck was a model Kiowa child in every way but his skin color.

Running Buck pulled back from his mother to look in her eyes, “They will never accept me. It will always be this way,” he added, the anger in his voice now replaced with sadness. “I asked Red Bear to make them stop but he does not believe me when I tell him these things.”

“I know, my son. Red Bear wants you to be accepted so he tells himself it is so. He sees with his heart and not his eyes,” replied Five Horses her hand reaching out to gently touch Running Buck’s bruised and swollen face.

“Will he not see this?” asked Running Buck grabbing what was left of his hair.

“Do not be angry with your brother, Running Buck. He is a good man. He loves you very much and is blinded by that love. He will still not believe.”

Red Bear would most likely pass the incident off as a child’s prank. Running Buck nodded his head in agreement. He understood.

“Mother, I am so tired of living this way. I have done nothing wrong. Why can they not accept me?” pleaded Running Buck.

“They do not know any better,” answered Five Horses.

Running Buck looked at his mother with a puzzled expression as Five Horses continued.

“The Kiowa have been taught for generations to fear the white man. The white man is unknown to them and they fear what they do not know. Because you are half white, they fear you, too. To change what has been taught for many years is very difficult, Running Buck. You must be patient and wait for a time to prove yourself as Kiowa. That time will come and you will have your chance. Then you can make them change.”

“It is hard to be patient, Mother, when they do this. How can I be Kiowa with short hair?” he asked, his humiliation evident in his eyes.

“Do you really think that makes a difference?” questioned Five Horses. The look on Running Buck’s face clearly indicated that he did think so.

Hesitating for a moment, Five Horses reached for the hunting knife her son carried on his belt.

“Mother, no!” Running Buck cried in horror as Five Horses sliced through her own long ebony colored braid with one swift motion of the knife.

“Look at me Running Buck. Am I a different person than a moment ago?”

“Of course not, Mother!” Running Buck answered, astonished by her actions.

“Then neither are you. A Kiowa warrior is known by the strength of his spirit and the courage in his heart, not by the length of his hair. They cannot take your spirit from you unless you give it to them. You are Kiowa, they cannot change that. Do you understand?”

Running Buck nodded his head.

“They are your people, my son. They just do not realize it yet. Some day they will.”

Running Buck looked at his mother with skepticism. He very much wanted to believe her, but it was hard.

“Do not let your heart be filled with hate, Running Buck. Do not despise them for their actions, but pity them for their ignorance,” she added laying her hand on his arm and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Five Horses began to rise to her feet as Running Buck grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “Mother, was I a mistake?”

Five Horses looked deep into her son’s dark eyes as she sank back down to the ground. Forming her thoughts carefully before she began Five Horses spoke softly, “The memories of how your life was created still frighten me. The loss of White Eagle still weighs heavy in my heart. But you, my son, were a gift from the spirits to lessen my sorrow. I looked into your eyes when you were born and came to know that love has no color. Loving you as I do, how could you possibly be a mistake?”

The winter winds shook the Kiowa village with a vengeance bringing an abundance of ice and a thick blanket of snow. Although the Kiowa, themselves, found safety and shelter in their warm teepees, their herd of
horses required constant care. It was a daily struggle to find shelter, food and water for the animals but it was a necessary battle, the Kiowa could not exist without their horses.

Red Bear, now married and the father of two small daughters, had taken his rightful place as war chief and, befitting his important status, had accumulated a large number of horses. Each day, he and Running Buck,
wrapped from head to toe in thick buffalo hides, ventured into the frozen wilderness to lead his herd to the ice covered lake where they would chop holes in the ice allowing the animals to drink. They would then lead the animals back to the shelter of the timber surrounding the village, provide them with dry grass that had been cut during the summer and check each animal for injury or ailment. After a long day in the frigid conditions, the brothers returned to their homes, exhausted by their efforts.

Though the work was hard, Running Buck did not mind. The Kiowa were busy tending to their own responsibilities. No one had the time or energy to torment him.

Five Horses saw the weary faces and tired bodies of her sons. They clearly needed help. Refusing to allow them to wage this war against the weather by themselves and knowing Red Bear’s wife needed to stay with their children, she insisted on helping herd the animals. Three could surely do the work faster than two. Both Red Bear and Running Buck initially refused to accept their mother’s offer but Five Horses was determined. The brothers knew better than to cross their stubborn mother.

For weeks they worked together waging battle against the snow and severe temperatures. Five Horses began to feel tired, very tired. She dismissed the pain in her chest as aches and pains from the strenuous work. She would not abandon her commitment. Her sons needed her. Returning to their teepee at the end of the day, Five Horses prepared an evening meal for Running Buck and then, exhausted, would seek warmth for her shivering, aching body under the heavy buffalo robes which served as her bed.

Five Horses woke to the mournful, howling sound of the winter wind. Though the fire in the teepee and the heavy buffalo robes provided much warmth she was still shivering with cold. But this cold felt different. Rather than a feeling produced from the outside elements, this cold came deep from within her body. She reached for another buffalo robe as a cough rose from deep in her lungs, shaking her small frame.

Running Buck woke to the early morning light and the sound of his mother’s coughing.

“Mother, are you ill?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“No, Running Buck, I am fine,” his mother lied. “I will prepare our morning meal and then we will go to the herd.”

The family trudged through the deep snow gathering the horses as they had so many times before as a new storm approached from the west. Bowing their heads against the wind, Running Buck and Red Bear continued forward not realizing their mother had fallen behind. After a moment, sensing she was no longer with them, they turned in unison to see Five Horses collapse in the snow.

The smell of herbs and the chants of the medicine man filled Five Horses’ teepee as she lay shivering with a high fever before her sons, violent coughs shaking her body. The ancient medicine man, Cloud Walker, knew the illness. He had seen it before. Passing an eagle feather over her body he implored the spirits to take the fever and relieve the coughing, but knew his efforts were most likely futile.

Darkness fell on the village as a distraught Red Bear sat at his mother’s side, his head in his hands, aware that Five Horses’ illness had come from her desire to help him.

Running Buck sat opposite his brother, Five Horses’ body between them, slowly becoming aware of the severity of his mother’s illness.

Five Horses felt a deep stabbing pain in her chest that increased with every breath she drew. The constant coughing only made her pain worse. She could feel her strength fading away. Through fever glazed eyes she saw a darkness hovering over her, growing closer, threatening to engulf her.

“Please, just a little more time,” she bargained with the darkness.

Turning to Red Bear, she spoke to her eldest child. “I am proud of you, my son. You are a strong man and a powerful warrior. Lead your people with pride, think twice before you act in haste. Take care of your brother. I love you, Red Bear. You have made your father proud.”

Red Bear looked into his mother’s loving gaze, unashamed of the tears overflowing from his eyes, and nodded his head in acknowledgment of her request.

Turning to Running Buck, Five Horses gathered her remaining strength and through her tears began, “You were a precious gift to me, Running Buck. I have loved you with all my heart. Do not let your spirit be filled with anger. You will find your place in this world, my son. Do not be afraid to look for it.”

Unable to hold back the flood of tears, Running Buck cried, “Mother, please do not leave me!” as his one true ally on this earth closed her eyes and went to join White Eagle waiting patiently for her in the land behind the sun.