Page 8 - My FlipBook

mother and brother, who had lived with the whites.
When the woman had finished, Old Tom began to translate

so they all could understand. “It has been decided,” he said,
“that the Lakota people should learn to live like white men—”

Red Dove’s mother gasped.
Would that be terrible? Red Dove wondered.
“There isn’t enough food for you here,” Old Tom continued.
“Summer is over and winter will soon come.” He looked back

at the woman, took off his grimy hat and wiped his brow. He
ran his fingers through the wisps of hair still clinging to his
head and mumbled something. The woman nodded and said

something more.
Kicking up a clod of dirt, Old Tom put his hat back on.
“The U.S. government will give you food if you send your

children to the school and live on the reservation like the rest
of your people have done… .” He seemed startled by the words
the woman was making him say.

Red Dove watched her mother’s face. Her mouth was set
in a firm line, but tears were pooling in her eyes.
When Old Tom had finished, Gray Eagle raised his head
and stared at the Wasichu woman. “We are hungry. Our young

men are gone and there are no more buffalo. You have killed
them all.” He stared into the distance. “We have heard about
your schools… and what happens there. You want us to live on

the reservation and trade our children for food?” He paused
and lowered his head. “No.”
He nodded at Old Tom, who began translating to the

woman. She frowned and said something back.
“This is different,” Old Tom said, echoing her words in
Lakota. “The school we are talking about was started by the

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