A Whisper In The Wind Read Free Page B

that he had spent more time with his great-grandfather. But the old man had always been there…
    By nightfall they had a small fire going. Yellow Spotted Wolf crawled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, too weary to do anything but sleep.
    Michael prepared a quick meal, then discovered he wasn’t really hungry. Guilt and remorse did not make for a hearty appetite, and he was plagued with both as he sat there gazing at his great-grandfather. He had left the reservation, left Yellow Spotted Wolf, and never looked back. It occurred to him now, when it was too late, that he should have taken better care of the old man. He should have moved his great-grandfather off the reservation, made his last years more comfortable. At the least, he could have gone to visit him, or written a letter or two.
    “It is too late for regrets, Ho-nehe ,” Yellow Spotted Wolf remarked quietly.
    “I thought you were asleep, Grandfather.”
    The old man shook his head. “What is done is done and cannot be changed. We must each follow the path where our heart leads.”
    “I failed you.”
    “No.”
    “Have you no regrets, Grandfather?”
    “Only one, and it has haunted me for eighty years.”
    Michael frowned. “Will you tell me about it?”
    Yellow Spotted Wolf grunted softly. “It was at the Greasy Grass.”
    “When you fought Custer?”
    “Ai. I had a younger brother who wanted very much to fight Yellow Hair, but he was not yet old enough to be a warrior. The night before the battle, he told me he was going to follow the warriors into battle, that he was going to count coup on the enemy. I did not believe him. He was only a child of ten summers, always making up stories of the brave deeds he would do, always teasing me. But this time he was not making up stories. He waited until a runner brought word that Yellow Hair had reached the river, and then, in the midst of the excitement and confusion that followed, he caught up his pony and rode after me. He was killed in the first wild rush as the blue-coats crossed the river.”
    “But you couldn’t have known he was serious about following you.”
    “I should have listened to him,” Yellow Spotted Wolf insisted. “At the least, I should have warned our mother to keep an eye on him. He was her youngest child, and her favorite. She grieved for him the rest of her life.”
    “I’m sorry, Grandfather.”
    Yellow Spotted Wolf let out a long sigh. “Perhaps it is never too late for regrets, after all. Even when things cannot be changed.”
    “Perhaps,” Michael agreed. He searched for words that would express his regret at not having spent more time with Yellow Spotted Wolf, but such words came hard, and by the time he found them, his great-grandfather was asleep.
     
    The soft, low beat of a drum roused Michael from sleep and he opened his eyes, frowning irritably. Turning his head, he saw his great-grandfather kneeling on the ground, a small drum between his knees. Eyes closed, the old man lifted his voice toward the rising sun in what Michael recognized as an ancient morning prayer to the Great Spirit.
    Not wanting to intrude on such a private moment, Michael lay still, just listening as the drum and the words spun their magic around him.
    Abruptly the drumming stopped and Yellow Spotted Wolf stood up. “Pave-voonao, Ho-nehe .”
    “Good morning, Grandfather,” Michael replied. “Are you hungry today?”
    The old man nodded. “Yes, very hungry. Fix a big breakfast, one that will sustain me on my journey.”
    “What journey? I thought you wanted to camp here.”
    “The journey has already begun,” Yellow Spotted Wolf replied. “I will see your great-grandmother and all those who have gone before me before this day is done.”
    “Grandfather…”
    Yellow Spotted Wolf lifted his hand. “I am ready to meet my Creator,” he said softly. “It is a good day to die.”
    Michael nodded. Wordlessly he prepared breakfast, which Yellow Spotted Wolf ate with gusto.
    “We spoke