She dropped the stone, and with her hand almost touched his face. “I am sorry,” she said.
The girl turned away and dropped to her knees, rocking and sobbing, her head to the ground.
“Go away,” she wept. “Go away.”
Running Horse sat down, cross-legged, on the ground near her.
“I am Running Horse of the Hunkpapa,” he said. “I have a good horse. I can shoot with a rifle. I can hunt meat.”
“Go away,” said the girl.
“I have some white man’s money,” said Running Horse. “My brother is Medicine Gun, who knows the medicine of the white man. I saved my brother from men who would kill him. I fought with Drum and he did not kill me.”
“Leave me,” begged Winona.
“I am brave,” said Running Horse. “I am strong. Even the spotted sickness of the white man could not kill me. I have a steel knife. I have a white man’s pipe given to me by my brother. I have blankets and corn and beef and a fire in my lodge which needs tending.”
Winona raised her head and turned slowly to face Running Horse, her eyes glazed with tears, her body miserable with pain.
“What are you saying to me?” she asked.
Running Horse dropped his head.
Suddenly without warning she hissed at him. “You are a fool and a short hair. I am only a white man’s woman.”
“The fire in my lodge,” said Running Horse, “burns low.”
“I would shame you,” she cried.
“No,” said Running Horse. “I am not ashamed.”
“That is because you are only a short hair,” said the girl, contemptuously.
“I have danced the Sun Dance,” said Running Horse.
Winona huddled even closer to the ground, rocking in her misery, her arms folded around her.
“On the other hand,” said Running Horse, speaking as he did because he had no male relative to do this in his stead, “you are not very much, and are probably not worth many horses.”
Winona looked up. “I am the daughter of a chief,” she said.
“That is true,” said Running Horse, “but he is old and has only one horse.”
“He was a great warrior,” said Winona.
“That is true,” said Running Horse, “but it is not he who would tend my fire.”
Winona looked at him angrily.
“He has a daughter,” said Running Horse, “who should feel grateful if a man would look at her.”
Winona bit her lip.
“She is a stupid girl,” he said, “who does not know how to sew or dress skins, and she cannot bead moccasins or make belts.”
“But she is very beautiful,” said Winona.
“No,” said Running Horse, “she is like a stick, like a she-coyote, not like a buffalo cow, fat and strong.”
“A man would be a fool to want such a girl,” said Winona.
“Yes,” said Running Horse, “I suppose so.”
For a long time neither of them spoke, and then Winona laughed.
“I have heard,” said Running Horse, “that Running Horse is a fool.”
“That is not true,” said Winona.
“He is no good,” said Running Horse. “He is only a short hair.”
Winona looked at him shyly. “I have heard,” she said, “that he has danced the Sun Dance.”
“Maybe,” said Joseph Running Horse, “I do not know.”
“A girl,” said Winona, “would be honored if such a man might think of her.”
“That is true,” said Running Horse.
Winona looked down. “Could the heart of such a man be pleased with a girl who is stupid and ugly?”
“Maybe,” said Joseph Running Horse, “I do not know.”
He looked at her.
“Could the heart of the daughter of a chief be pleased with a fool who is only a short hair?” asked Running Horse.
Winona looked down, not meeting his eyes. “Maybe,” she said, “I do not know.”
“Well,” said Running Horse, getting to his feet, “when you find out, you will let me know.”
Winona, too, rose to her feet, and knotted the dress over her left shoulder.
Running Horse began to climb up the bank, slipping a bit, and then he was on the level.
He waited for Winona to climb up after him, not helping her.