rown or tan of animal skins. The best
deerskin garments were worked till they were white. The dresses and
shawls and blankets the pale eyes traders offered were of many
colors--blue and yellow, red and green, with flowers and other pictures
and designs on them. Redbird often spent long moments staring at the
good calico dress her father, Owl Carver, had gotten for her from the
pale eyes traders, just delighting in the tiny red roses printed on its
pale blue background.

For a moment, lost in thought about the pale eyes, she had forgotten
Gray Cloud's danger and her own pain. Now it came back to her like a war
club crushing her chest.

Soon it would be night again. Gray Cloud had been in the cave a whole
night and a whole day, while the snow fell. And the snow was falling
still. If someone did not rescue him, he would surely die.

She would go to her father, Owl Carver, and demand that Gray Cloud be
brought back from the sacred cave.

She turned and pushed her feet through the fresh snow, hurrying past the
round-roofed, snow-covered wickiups of the British Band's winter camp in
Ioway country. A dog burst out of Wolf Paw's doorway and floundered
through the snow, its short pointed ears flattened, barking at her. Wolf
Paw's dogs were a nuisance, barking and snapping at anyone who passed
near his dwelling.

The dog stopped barking, and she heard footsteps squeaking in the snow.
She stopped and turned. Wolf Paw himself was standing before his wickiup
beside the tall pole from whose top hung six Sioux scalps he had taken
last winter.

Wolf Paw glowered at her, arms folded under a bright red blanket. Three
short black stripes near one edge were the pale eyes trader's guarantee
that the blanket was of highest quality. Despite the snow, Wolf Paw's
head was uncovered, all shaved except for the stiff-standing crest of
red-dyed deer hair in the middle. Three black and white eagle feathers
were tied into it.

Redbird did not like Wolf Paw. He never let people forget that he was
the son of the great war chief Black Hawk, whose wickiup lay only a
short distance from his own. He never smiled, and she knew very well
what he was thinking when he looked at her.

She turned without a greeting and walked on, kicking the snow as she
went. But the sight of Wolf Paw had reminded her that though Owl Carver
was her father, she still had only a woman's influence. The spirit
journey of Gray Cloud was a matter for men.

Owl Carver loved