American Girl

North Dakota

The wild horse ran across the prairie, its mane and tail flying in the wind. Wachiwi ran with the horse. Timing the motion, she grabbed the black mane and swung on its back. The girl and horse galloped as one, circling in the waving grass. She rose steadily onto her haunches and stood with outstretched arms. The horse continued to run with the girl standing on its back.

Wachiwi's black hair spread out like wings. She felt the wind in her face and the horse's motion beneath her. She was one with nature. Breathing deeply, Wachiwi took a step backward and turned smoothly. The horse dropped to a canter, and the girl faced its tail. Leaping into the air, her body twisted gracefully and landed on her bare feet. The horse continued to run with the girl on its back.

They cantered together, circling the prairie. Wachiwi dropped into a straddling position and scanned the prairie. She had the odd feeling that someone was watching her. Perhaps one of the young men had followed her. Still, she didn't see anyone in the vicinity. Her eyes usually picked up the slightest movement. Her senses strained for a sound or a movement. Ensuring no one was around, she prodded the horse with her knees.

The horse moved into a smooth gallop. Wachiwi hunched across its back, flattening her body. The wind raced against her skin. Leaning to one side, she picked a prairie rose and tucked it into her hair. She enjoyed the loneliness of the reservation lands. She could pretend the land was free again, and her people hunted the buffalo as they did in grandfather's youth. At night, the old man told stories of long ago before the government took their land and gave it to the white settlers.

Closing her eyes, Wachiwi saw the buffalo grazing in herds. She saw her forefathers hunting and her grandmothers tanning the hide and making jerky. The buffalo were gone, but her tribe held on to their traditions. Grandfather told stories, his memory sharp despite his one hundred and twelve moons. Grandfather wasn't really her grandfather. They called him that out of respect for his age and wisdom.

Wachiwi rose to her feet again. Her companion dropped his gait as though he knew her mind. She did a perfect backflip and another. Squatting, she placed her hands on the running horse's back and lifted her feet in the air. Her legs straightened, and she stood upside down. The sensation of someone watching returned.

Concentrating on one spot, she trained her eyes and stared. The horse came around again, and Wachiwi studied the prairie, retaining her upside-down position. She felt certain a man hunkered in the prairie grass just out of sight.

Wachiwi lowered her legs and returned to a sitting position. She prodded the horse using her knees until he moved in her indicated direction. They slowed to a walk, and she scanned the area closely.

"Who's there?" she called in Lakota. "Who are you?" she repeated in English. Wachiwi could speak both languages. She attended the white man's school on the reservation. "Hello?"

No one responded. Perhaps she had only imagined there were eyes focused on her. She rode away, galloping bareback on the wild horse. Abruptly, they swung back around and charged across the prairie. At the last moment, the horse leaped over a hidden object. Wachiwi turned the horse again and rode back.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked the figure lying flat in the prairie grass.

"I want you," the tall blonde man stated, rising.

Wachiwi studied the man skeptically. He wore fringed buckskins and a buff-colored hat. His hair was long and curled at the ends. In his hand, he clasped a long rifle.

"I...I don't understand," Wachiwi stated in English. "You? You want me? Why? What have I done?"

"You have done everything...wonderfully," the stranger exclaimed, his smile broadening beneath his huge, drooping mustache. "Ride around again and do that flipping thing." He gestured for her to perform her stunts.