FROM THE BANKS OF LITTLE BEAR CREEK
Howdy Fiends! “Buck lingered by the fire and occasionally swiped biscuits when Soft Cloud turned her back, but he was really interested in cow talk with Johnny. In a few moments, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan joined them and the small group moved to the long table.
Buck surveyed the camp and marveled at the similarity. It held to the many military campaigns he had been on as a scout. There was the main cookfire by the chuckwagon, with its black kettle hanging over the fire. The Dutch ovens in the coals, and hungry men gathered around it.
Scattered throughout the camp area were half a dozen other smaller campfires. Even though a hot June day, many of the boys cooked their own coffee when they weren’t in the saddle. A few small one-man dog tents dotted the campgrounds. Some of the men used logs to rig rustic saddle stands which sat in the center of their particular campsite.
Some cowboys rested, stretched out on blankets. While others sat on their blankets stitching torn shirts, mending a piece of equipment, or cleaning rifles. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than the military encampment. But that same feeling of preparedness hung in the air. Each man here knew his job as well as any cavalry soldier.
“We’ll see you folks later,” Tom called as he and Hawk rode from camp and trotted toward the herd. Tom put Thunder in a gentle lope and was pleased to see his son use both hands to grasp the mane and kept his balance with the horse. As they traveled through the tall prairie grass at a good speed, Hawk’s hair blowing in the wind brushed on Tom’s naked belly.
Today, Tom rode as a Sioux horseman. He wore deerskin leggings fringed on the outside seam, Iron Shell’s deerskin vest and bone necklace. His own long black hair streamed behind him in the wind.
The beads sewn on his moccasin boots with great care by Soft Cloud were in exactly the same pattern as the beads on Hawk’s moccasin boots. And together they glistened in the sun.
Tom had decided today he would ride not only dressed as a Sioux, but in the manner and style of a Sioux warrior on a buffalo hunt. He carried the war lance given him by Red Cloud on his wedding day. As they approached the milling herd he leaned forward, reached over Hawk, grasped the bridle, shook it loose.” Excerpt from my historical fiction ~
~FROM THE BANKS OF LITTLE BEAR CREEK ~ Find it & all my books here: www.dutchhenryauthor.com … Gitty Up, Dutch.
