Red Thunder

~Chapter One: Part II~

I remembered the day vividly, as if it had happened days ago and not several years. It was after all, probably the most exciting thing that had ever occurred in my life thus far. As I reached into the hen house and carefully filled my basket with eggs, I let the events of the past play out in my mind...

It had been a hot afternoon in the middle of the summer. My mother, father and I remained inside all day but to take turns carrying water up from the stream for the animals and ourselves. Our well had run dry and Papa had yet to dig a new one. Mama had turned to me, still fanning her face. "Winnie dear, I do believe it is your turn to fetch water."

I nodded and began to stand up from my place on the floor. I had been reading a small book of poetry that was borrowed from my grandmother. I took two wooden buckets from their pegs on the wall, and skipped out the door, my yellow skirts flapping.

"Be careful sweetheart!" my mother called after me.

I simply laughed and continued on skipping down to the river, despite the heat. Be careful? Why? There was no true danger here, this was our home!

When I had reached the sparsely shaded riverbed, I bent down and dipped one of the buckets in the cool water, humming under my breath. I suddenly heard a rustling coming from my right just up stream. I gulped as my heart started racing and I remained completely still, bucket still half in the crystalline water. My imagination ran wild with the possibilities, and suddenly my earlier thought of this place being completely safe felt very foolish. The deer usually never came this close to us in the afternoon, and whatever was making those sounds, was at least that size. Oh Winifred, you dunce!What sort of monster was making its way towards me?

I did not have to wait long before the source of the noise was revealed to me. I gasped and jumped up in fright, dropping my bucket into the gently flowing water. I did not even notice as it floated away downstream. For standing before me, was a real live Indian!

I didn't know what on Earth to do, so I simply stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide, staring into the copper face and equally wide eyes of the young Indian boy in front of me. His wooden and rush raft was pulled up onto the pebbled bank just behind him, explaining the sounds I had heard.

Finally, I broke the silence, whispering timidly, "Umm, hello. Wh- Who are you?"

The handsome boy looked at me strangely for a moment, and then replied slowly, "Lakota."

I gulped nervously, asking, "That is your name? Lakota?"

The boy's dark gaze looked slightly confused as he replied in heavily accented English, "Hiyá,no. My name Wakíŋyaŋ Lúta. Lakota,my people."

"Wakee...? What does that mean?" I asked in curiosity. I knew that Indians had names with meanings, usually to do with their features, animals, or being of nature.

He smiled, as if pleased I had asked.

"Wakíŋyaŋ Lúta,"he stated, placing his hand on his chest. "In your language, Red Thunder."

"What a fascinating name!" Too stunned to question how the Indian boy spoke English, I held a shaking hand up to my own chest and told him, "My name is Winifred Foley, but you can call me Winnie."

He grinned, then said something in what I assumed was his language. My father had said the Indians communicated in grunts, hollers and whistles, but his language sounded nothing as described. It was articulate —beautiful even.