Natives Network

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I studied horses with Shináá Cho. Some had no stamps at all. Others were marked with the “USA” symbol used by the bluecoats. The rest were branded with several different markings, and many had no iron on their hooves. I realized that many of the horses in the paddock must have been Indian ponies stolen from the reservation. If we brought them back, I knew the people on the reservation would be happier to see us than if we came poor and empty-handed and all the women and children could drive the rest of the way to the reservation. Nakaya’s guard looked like he was waiting and looking for other vaqueros, perhaps the ones I saw around the fire. Perhaps more ponies will arrive, but with more vaqueros. The more vaqueros, the less chance we have of capturing a few ponies and leaving without a fight. I decided to destroy those in front of me and take all the ponies.

We moved along a narrow stream that ran past the camp. It was, perhaps, a human span of arms and a deep chest. I gestured for Juanita to make his way to the fence of the paddock from the side opposite the guard. At my signal, she was to use her sling to knock out the guard and then stay at the gate until I took the rest.

At first I planned to take a cigar smoker and a man who cuts meat for a pot. Awakened and alert, they guarded the entire camp and raised the alarm when I attacked.

– Sahale Ndé