The Long Journey Home Read Free

through a hollow reed. It was then tied, and the air-filled ball was great fun to kick and toss. Little Bull and the other boys had had a wonderful time with the toy, until a errant kick sent it into the fire, to end the fun. They were admonished to return to work, carrying meat to the area where the women were slicing it into thin strips to place on the drying racks.
    The football was a more durable form of the inflated bladder. It was oblong, made of leather, and could withstand endless kicking. There were rules, Bear told them: an organized game between two teams who would try to carry or kick this ball to a goal. It was a more physical game than baseball. John Buffalo enjoyed them both. He was always among the first to be picked when it came time to choose sides for a competition, often ahead of older boys.
    Even with all of this, however, the pleasures of learning and of competition in athletics could not compensate for the freedom he had lost. Many an hour he spent gazing out the window of the schoolroom at the distant hills. He dreamed of the days when he was small, of the sound of the patter of rain on the lodge cover … . Or the feel of a cool breeze as it drifted through the shaded interior of the lodge with the cover rolled part way up on a hot summer day. His parents’ lodge, like most in recent years, had been of canvas, not skins. There was a unique smell of hot sun on canvas … . These were the things that he missed … .
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    There came a day the following autumn when everyone was admonished to look his best. An important visitor would be coming to the school. John was unsure as to the exact status of this visitor, but judging from the reaction of the Bear and old Miss Whitehurst, this was a man of considerable status. A chief, perhaps, a representative of the White Father in Washington. The teacher referred to him as “the Senator,” whatever that might be. John gathered that this chief might have great influence over what was extended to the school in the way of food and supplies. The students were cautioned to be on their best behavior and to present themselves as clean, well fed, and happy. This struck young John as humorous, that one could be expected to have his heart soar with joy when requested. A bit ironic, actually.
    His suspicions were confirmed as they lined up to greet the Senator. The Bear always marched them to other parts of the compound for meals, classroom instruction, the dormitory, or athletics. Today, all students were brought together at the parade ground, where athletics and games were held. Supervisors scurried to make sure their lines were straight as they stood at attention.
    There was a troop of soldiers in their blue uniforms with yellow stripes on the trousers, impressive on their horses as they maneuvered into position for the inspection. John Buffalo smiled to himself in the knowledge that his father, Yellow Bull, had helped to defeat such units at the Greasy Grass. They ran like rabbits. Yellow Bull had always chuckled as he told the story.
    The Senator and his party arrived in an Army ambulance, chosen because it was enclosed. There was a chill wind in the air, suggesting that winter might not be far off. The Senator stepped down, and greeted the officers in charge of the military detachment. He was a tall man, wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and string tie. One of his helpers carried a buffalo coat over his arm, ready in case his leader had need of it.
    The inspection did not take long. There was a brisk walk along the side of the parade ground where the pupils were arrayed. The Senator paused from time to time to take a second look or to speak to one of the youngsters. John hoped that the man would not single him out, but he did.
    â€œWhat is your name, son?”
    â€œJohn Buffalo, sir.”
    The man nodded. “Your father?”
    Here was a dilemma. Miss Whitehurst had forbidden the use of the word “bull” as indelicate,