Savages Stories

It was only when I watched Red Elk turn his back to me and began to ride off that I understood. He was making me decide if I wanted to go with him or to return to my own kind. But they weren't my own kind, were they? I'm not American, and I couldn't trust them. For all I know they were no different than the savages who killed my husband, and would do awful things to me. At least Red Elk had shown he wasn't going to hurt m...

I spent the warm season hunting beaver along the shores of the great river. The hunt was good, but too many days had passed and each one was now shorter than the last. Cold winds were already blowing from the North and soon the white snows would be falling from the sky. I knew that if I were to return to my home fires before thick drifts filled the land, I would be forced to cut through the rolling hills of the Arapaho. I...