The Roan Stallion
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The Roan Stallion - Alfreda Beartrack-Algeo
Thunder Rider
rgh!" I moaned.
My left foot had caught in the door, and I’d landed on the porch floor with a thud. I was amazed at the size of the springs attached to every door on the farm. Even the shoddy outhouse had a fancy snapping spring. I guess Grandfather wanted to be sure none of the doors on the farm were left open. Maybe to keep the dust demons out.
I was in a hurry. I had grabbed a hot cookie from a tray where they were cooling, even though Mother had left a note saying, Alfred, do not eat the cookies! They’re for the community meeting tomorrow.
I was trying to listen to the hushed voices coming from the back porch. I could smell the sage and cedar smoke, so I knew it was a serious conversation.
I thought I heard Mother mention to Grandmother something about my father, Elmer Swallow Sr. It had been two years since my father had to leave our reservation to find work in the city. He’d promised to come home after a year. I feared he was dead, because he had broken his promise to me.
I must be mistaken, I thought. Maybe they were talking about my ten-year-old brother, Elmer Jr.
They must have heard me fall on the front porch, because they quickly changed the subject.
Has anyone seen my bread dough? I was letting it rise on the back table,
Mother called out. Elmer! Come and help me look for my dough. I need to get my bread in the oven soon.
I was on my way to work at the Looking Rock Ranch, southwest of Reliance, where I tamed wild horses for the ranch owner. Even though I was only thirteen years old, I’d always had a way with horses, so he gave me the job. Reliance was a town of about three hundred folks in southwest South Dakota. The town had a railroad station for the Chicago, Milwaukee, and Saint Paul railroad trains that ran right through the town. It also had a bank, a hardware store, several general stores, a school, a newspaper, a trust and title office, a telegram office, stagecoach and team transportation, and a grain elevator.
My brother, Elmer, had planned to go with me but changed his mind. He’d decided to stay and help our mother and grandmother with their cooking for tomorrow’s big community meeting. Mainly, he would be fetching water and chopping wood for the cast-iron cookstove.
I grabbed my tack, saddle, and new birthday present, a colorful wool saddle blanket, and walked to the barn to saddle my horse, Anpo. Anpo, a brown-and-white paint mustang, was high-strung, intelligent, and a fast runner. Grandfather had just changed out his shoes, and I could tell from Anpo’s whinny that he was eagerly waiting for me at his stall door.
I gave him a gentle knuckle-touch greeting. Howdy, Po-Po Boy. Ready to ride?
He nuzzled me with a soft nicker, letting me know he was ready to hit the trail.
I saddled up Anpo and led him to the shady side of the barn, where Grandfather was still shoeing horses. When Grandfather saw us approaching, he glanced up and smiled. His gray hair was neatly braided and wrapped in red cloth. Quite a contrast to the oil-soaked coveralls he was wearing. For as long as I could remember, Grandmother had combed, braided, and wrapped her husband’s long hair in red cloth. She kept him handsomely groomed.
Hi, Grandfather. I am leaving for Looking Rock Ranch and should be home before dark,
I said.
Grandfather nodded without taking his eyes off the steel horseshoe he was nailing to one of our horse’s hooves. Be careful, Grandchild. Might get a storm later on today.
I will, Grandfather,
I answered.
My yellow Lab, Chepa, showed up with his pink tongue hanging out.
I grabbed him by his collar. Come on, boy. It breaks my heart, but I have to tie you up so you don’t follow me. A corral full of wild horses is not a safe place for you.
I tied him to the twisted juniper tree in the shade of the well house. I knew Elmer would keep an eye on him until I returned.
I rode past the main road south toward Beaver Creek. I was feeling good as I hummed a Lakota courtship song. I reached the fork in the road and decided to take a short detour to one of my favorite spots. I glanced up at the noonday sun; a white ball engulfed in a vast yellow hue blazed overhead. Even with the looks of the dark clouds building in the west, I had ample time to get to Looking Rock Ranch.
I untied the faded red bandana from around my neck and wiped the sweat from my eyes. Promising myself I wouldn’t stay long, I turned left toward Beaver Creek. I coached Anpo toward the creek, but for some reason he resisted. I finally persuaded him it was okay as a golden eagle screeched above me. My medicine bundle, which hung from my neck, began throbbing. I knew the spirits were near, and I knew I was being watched over by my ancestors and my spirit helper, the golden eagle. But then a thought entered my mind. Maybe I was facing grave danger and my spirit helper knew I needed extra protection. I shook the thought off and continued on, despite a nagging sense of danger.
Dodging overhanging tree limbs in the dense woods, I found a good spot next to a spring and a large box elder tree. I was sure Anpo would be safe here, so I tied him to a limb and walked toward the nearby ridge for a better view. Quietly, I lay down in dried brown prairie grass with my rifle tucked under my arm. I had a good view of the creek when I saw him. Hoka hey!
A blue roan stallion grazed close to his herd of wild Nokota horses. The herd consisted of three small bands that stayed close to one another. They munched away under the watchful eye of the roan stallion.
I inched closer until I could see the roan stallion in better detail. His coat was magnificent. It had a blue gleam in the sunlight. His chest was deep, with a darker patch in the shape of a shield. His mane, tail, and all four legs up to the knees were a brilliant black. His face was lighter in color than the rest of his body, and a black patch covered the top of his head all the way down to his ears. It looked like he was wearing a black hat. He was a Medicine Hat horse, which was very sacred to my Lakota people. This was the